Sniper
by Caley3324
Summary: Before Joe goes to work at Gallagher, he goes on a mission with Cayden Sanders, a sniper that's described as the best in the field. They get into danger and war and even...love. But will they be able to make it through?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Cayden_

It was cold, but I knew better than to shiver; and my body knew better than to disobey me. The caravan of Jeeps should have passed by now, and yet, I was still waiting. But I didn't mind all that much; not when I was doing what most people that had access to my file said I was born to do. And, I suppose, it could be true. Because I was one of the best. Or _the_ best, at the risk of sounding a bit cocky.

When I was training at Quantico, I was the best at everything. I could do the math in my head and I could read a map and use my photographic memory to remember it. I could move with a silence that frightened even my instructors and tracking people wasn't an issue. My disguises were exceptional, even if I only had access to mud and grass and leaves. And, I had never missed a target. That's why people said I was the best. What they didn't know, though, was how I'd gotten that way.

And they didn't need to know.

The air finally got to my lungs and I let out a small sigh as I slowly reached for the small pack filled with the items that I always carried on missions like this. I took out a Ricola – lemon mint, naturally – and popped it into my mouth so that my coughing wouldn't give anything away. Not that I thought it would anyway, I was just being overly cautious, as always. Even though snipers are generally kept at a distance during battle, we're still at danger. Some groups send a select few soldiers out to search for snipers and take them out. We have to be careful.

Finally, I heard it: the sound of Jeep tires on the dirt path. I grabbed my binoculars and looked through them, smiling when I saw exactly what I'd been expecting. The Jeeps were all tan, and I knew that my target was in the backseat of the middle one. He was going to be tough to get to because he was in the middle of two guards, but I knew that I could do it.

I put the binoculars away and moved up slightly, making sure that I wouldn't be seen. Then, I pointed my sniper rifle and didn't bother looking through the scope; I didn't need to. I could judge the wind without any technological help and I knew exactly where I needed to aim and exactly when I needed to shoot.

Ten…

I gripped the gun a little tighter.

Nine…

The Jeeps rounded the bend and I adjusted my left hand.

Eight…

I adjusted my right hand.

Seven…

I tilted my head slightly to the right.

Six…

I peeked through the scope, even though I didn't need to, just to make sure that it was in the right position.

Five…

I put my head back at its original position.

Four…

I inhaled.

Three…

I held my breath.

Two…

I let out my breath.

One…

I pulled the trigger.

The shot couldn't be heard until after the bullet had already gone through the windshield of the middle Jeep, sending glass shards flying. All of the Jeeps stopped and I heard panicked yells as I took apart my rifle with expert precision.

"He's dead!" I heard and I felt a sense of pride. My mission was complete; I had done it.

I grabbed my rifle bag and began to run, moving swiftly and silently through the trees with my bag slung over my shoulders. When I reached the chopper, I threw my bag in the back and then got in and started it up, giving it the required amount of warm-up time before I led it up into the skies.

Almost instantly, a voice came over the radio. "Sniper One, is the mission complete."

I'd been Sniper One ever since the academy, no matter what mission I went on, I was always number one. Everyone always answered to me. "That's affirmative," I answered back. "I'm currently in the air, on my way back to headquarters."

"Good," said Mr. Irving. "We have another mission for you when you get back."

I had hoped for a couple of days off to just hang out and relaxed. I had fantasized about lounging in a chair, watching nonsense on TV or reading a pointless book that I would never use. But, no such luck. Snipers as elite as me were needed almost twenty-four-seven. "Yes, sir. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Copy."

I sighed and steered the helicopter to the left a few degrees as I wondered what my mission would be. But, I simply couldn't because there was a wide range of things that it could be. I'd been sent to kill targets as far away as Australia or Turkey, and I'd gone to a military base to train troops. I had helped protect the president more than once and had assessed sniper threats for a political rally. There was no telling what it could be.

I thought back to what I'd overheard my teacher from Quantico, Mr. Riggs, saying to the CIA and FBI directors. _"There's just nothing I can teach this girl! Ever heard that phrase 'born in the saddle'? Well, this girl was born holding a sniper rifle! She's the best, I tell you; the best!"_

I obviously wasn't born holding a sniper rifle. In fact, I had never even shot a gun when I was young. But I never let on. I let people assume whatever they wanted to about me. I'd heard everything from: _she shot a tiger on a safari when she was thirteen!_ To: _she's an ancestor of Annie Oakley!_ And I guess those things had always sort of made me feel good. Because I was finally the best: a legend.

No one had to know the truth about me and where I'd come from.

_Joe_

"Please, Joe?"

After all this time, it felt strange to be sitting across from Rachel Morgan, seeing her dark brown hair and green eyes. After all, every time that I saw her, I thought of Matt and remembered how I had been the one to tell Rachel that he was gone. "I don't know, Rachel," I said softly, looking down at the white mug of coffee in my hands. Normally, I added three creams and four sugars, but I hadn't this time. I guess I had thought that bitter black coffee fit the occasion.

"You're the first one that I thought of," she said softly. "You'd be good for them."

But I hadn't been good for Matt. He had been my best friend for a long time and I hadn't been able to protect him. Because I had been stuck at desk duty. I knew that I should have told Matt to stay behind until we could both go. But if I had been there, would it have made a difference? Or would we have both been captured and… and what? No one knew for sure if he was dead. There was no body. Still, it seemed like the biggest possibility.

"Would I?" I asked as I picked up my mug and then took a sip, letting the hot liquid trickle down my throat. I set it back down on the table. "I have to say, Rachel, I was pretty shocked when you called."

She gave a half smile. "Your number was hard to get a hold of, Joe. I called the agency and was put on hold for hours. Then, I had to talk to about twenty different people until I could finally get through to the director. When I told him what it was for, he couldn't rattle off your number fast enough. He said it would be good for you. He said the stuff you've been doing…"

She trailed off and I was glad. The stuff that I had been doing was dangerous and intense. I was busy all of the time, doing anything that was asked of me. I had gotten a reputation as a badass and people respected me, even the ones that were older than me. I was harder now. "Yeah," I said softly.

"I'm glad you met me, at least," she said. "It's good to see you."

"You too," I said, and it was. But it hurt, too. It brought back memories of Matt that I had done my best to keep out. "How's Cammie?"

Rachel truly smiled now. "Just like her father. She's so good at hiding…sometimes it scares me how invisible she can become."

I felt a pang. "Sounds just like him. Like Matt."

She nodded. "She is. Looks like him, too. In the face. Same structure."

I nodded slowly. "So you're honestly telling me that Buckingham wants out?"

"Says she's getting too old," Rachel said as she reached for her own coffee, wrapping her hands around it. "She begged me to find someone before next yea. Preferably right now, but she says that she can wait until the beginning of next year, if need be. She'll still be around for the younger girls and we're going to offer a new course soon, I think. History of Espionage."

We sipped our coffee in silence for a few moments and I thought about her offer. Teaching the girls of the Gallagher Academy. "I'll be teaching Cammie, then?" I asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "That's one of the reasons I want you there. For her. To teach her. I think you'd be good for her."

I nodded slowly and made up my mind. I was going to take the job because I was going to do my damndest to make sure that Cammie was ready. I wasn't going to let her get hurt like I had let Matt get hurt. I was going to push her so hard that she would be the best; she'd never get taken down. "Okay," I nodded. "I'll do it."

Rachel's smile widened. "Oh, good. We can get you a chopper by-"

But my CIA phone rang and I gave her an apologetic smile. "Excuse me."

"Of course," she smiled and gestured for me to go ahead.

"Solomon," I answered.

The voice was that of Mr. Irving, the CIA director; the one who gave me my missions. "Joe, we have one for you."

"When?" I asked.

"We need you to headquarters as soon as possible."

I nodded slowly. "It'll only be a few hours, sir."

"Good," he said gruffly. "See you then."

I hung up the phone and pocketed it with a sigh. "Sounds like Buckingham will have to last for the rest of the year."

Rachel smiled. "I'm sure she'll make it through it. Did you get another mission?"

I nodded. "Don't know any details yet, but I could tell from the sound of his voice that it's going to be a long one."

She nodded and stood up. "Well, I should get back to the school before dinner. Good luck, Joe."

I stood, too. "You as well, Rachel."

She smiled. "I'll be in touch." And then she turned and walked out of the small diner. I paid and then headed out to my own car. As I drove, I thought through everything that had been said. It was all still so surreal. Hearing her voice and seeing her after all this time…

Not that I harbored any romantic feelings for her. It just brought back memories. Memories of the best friend that had been taken away from me by the organization that I had used to be so loyal to. The organization that I had pledged my life to taking down.

And then my thoughts turned to the mission. I knew that it was no use trying to guess what it would be, but I tried to guess how long it would last and if I would be sent overseas.

Whatever it was, though, I would do my very best to succeed.


	2. To Meet

**To Meet**

_Joe_

The woman at the guard station smiled at me, that smile that all girls seemed to give me. The one that made me want to roll my eyes and walk away. But, my Culture training had its hooks in deep. "Good evening," I greeted.

"Hi," the woman batted her eyelashes and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. Her flirting reminded me of Abby Cameron and I wanted desperately to laugh. "Can I help you?"

"Joe Solomon," I told her.

She took her eyes away form me long enough to check a list. "Oh, yes," she said, suddenly flustered. Something about a guy being a spy made him seem hotter to girls, I guess. "I'll just need to check your fingerprint and scan your retinas."

I nodded and offered up my hand, which she touched for a little too long while scanning my prints. Then, she scanned my eyes and something beeped. She flashed me a big smile. "You can go on through now."

"Thanks," I said, flashing her my winning smile.

She swooned and I drove through the gate, finally allowing myself to laugh. It was crazy, the way that girls fell all over me. And I had always wondered about that. Why did girls just go for the looks? It was one of the reasons that women ended up in abusive relationships. And I'd seen women that had been in abusive relationships. It made me want to go and kill the guy that had done it. Guys just weren't supposed to hit girls – unless, maybe, they were attacking you with a knife or something. And, of course, sometimes spies just had to fight each other, even if one was a guy and one was a girl.

And I just wasn't a relationship kind of guy. I never really had been. At first, it was because I had joined the Circle, and I just knew that I couldn't be in a relationship while that was going on. And then, when I turned twenty-one, I left the Circle. Matt, who was my best friend even though he was eight years older, had helped me through that. We'd been so busy tracking down the Circle that I hadn't had time for a relationship then. And now, being single was just a habit that I couldn't break. I wasn't sure that I could work a relationship anymore; wasn't sure that I knew what a healthy relationship even _was_ anymore. And, even though I was only twenty-nine, I just wasn't interested in finding out. I was okay by myself.

I parked the car in my designated spot and got out, heading for the door at the brisk pace of an agent. I had to be scanned some more before I could get through the doors, and then I had to check in at the desk.

"Joe!" Roger said, smiling at me. He hadn't changed a bit, even though he had to be pushing sixty now. He still had a bald head, hidden by a cap, and those same dark eyes that had seen the same terrible things that I had. There was a long scar on his cheek, but I knew that no one knew the truth about where it had come from.

"Hey, Roger," I greeted, automatically reaching out so that he could hand me my badge.

He did so and then pointed. "You know where to go. Good luck."

"Thanks, Roger." I saluted him and headed down the hall, towards the elevator, which I then rode up to the fifth floor.

"Come in, Joe," Mr. Irving called even before I had reached his door. He was either really good, or Roger had called him to let him know that I was here. I suspected a little bit of both.

When I walked in, taking in my surroundings like all good operatives did, I saw that his office hadn't changed. Same books, same desk, same tall, slender man sitting in the chair. What was different, though, was the girl that was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the mahogany desk.

Well, girl wasn't exactly fitting. She was a woman, though she was younger than me – I guessed about twenty-four. She had blonde hair, which was pulled up into a neat high ponytail, and her eyes were startlingly blue. She was sitting down, but I estimated her height to be 5'5 and her weight to be about 120, since she was so toned. She wore all black and I assumed that she had just finished with a mission.

I had never seen her before; I knew.

"Take a seat, Joe," Mr. Irving gestured. "Cayden, this is Joe Solomon. Joe, Cayden Sanders."

Cayden nodded at me and I did the same before sitting in the chair that had been offered to me. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Cayden and I would be partners on whatever mission we'd be going on. So, I tried to assess her from the corner of my eye. I appreciated her muscles, for sure, and her neutral expression told me that she wasn't a rookie. A rookie would have been smiling, eager for a mission. So, she was skilled. And her hands – they were the restless hands of an operative fresh from a mission. So, I assumed that they sent her out frequently.

Which was good. I didn't want a partner that wasn't skilled. Well, I really didn't want a partner at all, but I knew better than to speak up. Everyone could use some help sometimes, and Mr. Irving wouldn't give me a partner unless he knew that I would need one.

"I'm assuming that you're both free?" Mr. Irving said. "No immediate plans that have to be taken care of?"

Cayden and I answered in unison. "No, sir." Her voice was soprano and soft, yet pleasant. Warm and smooth, like melting butter.

"Good." He picked two files up from his desk and held one out to Cayden and the other to me. "Because you two have a mission."

_Cayden_

The picture in the file was of Dominic Distefano. The world's leading crime boss. He's wanted in almost every single country in the world for something that he did there. In fact, he was partly responsible for 9/11. He's scammed and stolen and conned. He's murdered and embezzled and every other crime in the book. And the CIA decided that it was high time that he was taken out.

"Here's what I want," Mr. Irving said. "I want him taken out. But first, I want information. Sources say that he's planning something for Saudi Arabia and I want to know what it is. Then, you can kill him."

So that's what he needed me for. The Joe Solomon guy must have a purpose, too, but he needed me to do the killing. Now I understood. "Yes, sir."

"Great," he smiled. "Your chopper will leave in one hour. We have clothes already packed for you and everything that you'll need. But first, let me further introduce you two. Cayden, Joe Solomon is a great operative with superb martial arts skills and linguistics. I think you'll find him very useful on this mission."

Joe Solomon. Now the name rang a bell. I'd heard it at a benefit dinner not too long ago; it was a group of female agents discussing him. They'd talked little about his skill and more about his good looks, which I could now see. He was tall, about 6'1, and he had blonde hair and green eyes so beautiful that they belonged on a female model. Of course, I wasn't one to fall for good looks – pretty eyes and big muscles did little for me. I didn't date; ever. Not anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

"Joe," Mr. Irving said, looking at the man seated next to me. "Cayden Sanders is a sniper. The best of the best. She's going to be very useful to you. Her instincts are without precedent in this business."

This seemed to impress Joe, whose eyes widened slightly. "I think I've heard of her before, sir." He glanced over at me. "Are you the one that killed Jamal Henson?"

"That was me," I nodded.

He nodded his approval and looked at Mr. Irving. "That was the farthest shot ever made by a sniper, right?"

Mr. Irving nodded. "And even more impressive when you add in the fact that he was in a car going sixty miles an hour and the wind was going seven miles an hour."

"Ten," I corrected and then felt my cheeks flame. "Mr. Irving, the gun that I used last time won't work for this. It's in forensics now."

He nodded. "I've got you a new one."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you, sir."

He stood and nodded at us both. "There are matters that I need to take care of. Meet the chopper on the landing pad in fifty-five minutes for takeoff. And, agents, good luck."

He left the room and I sat there for a moment before standing and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Joe asked from behind me.

It felt weird that he was asking me that; I didn't even know him. But, that was often the deal in our kind of business. You met someone, sat in the same room with them for five minutes, and then you were expected to trust them to watch your back on a mission. It wasn't ideal, but it's what had to be done. And, if I were to have someone watching my back, Joe Solomon was adequate. I had heard of his record and it was fairly impressive. Almost as impressive as mine. He hadn't quite reached sniper expert level.

"I'm hungry," I told him, not bothering to turn to face him. My Culture teacher would have thrown a fit, but I really didn't care. "I'll see you at the pad."

He said nothing else and I left the room, heading for the cafeteria. Once there, I got a tray and on it were a turkey sandwich, a bag of Lays chips, and a small carton of grape juice. I sat at a table by myself and ate in silence, savoring the last few moments that I would have of being by myself.

And then, I studied the file that contained my cover. My name was to be Emmeline Vance, and I was a French philanthropist with money that dated back to my great great great grandparents. I studied everything that I needed to know, committing it instantly to memory so that I would never hesitate if a situation arose.

Finally, I finished my food and moved to put the tray away, placing the file in an inside pocket of my jacket. I walked slowly up to the pad, not wanting to get there until it was time to leave. I was actually kind of resentful towards this mission. I hadn't been home in a month; every night had been spent in hotels or even out in the forest. I hadn't gotten to sleep in my own bed or cook myself some food. I missed it; all of it.

But I had known what I was getting myself into when I had signed up for this life. Before I had even started the classes to become an operative, Mr. Irving had asked me if I was sure this was the life that I wanted. And I had agreed.

I opened the door to see that the helicopter's blades were already turning, sending up a wind. Joe saw me just as he was about to step onto the helicopter and he waved me over. I took a deep breath before jogging to join him.

"Ladies first," he gestured.

I took a breath before stepping onto the helicopter. Once Joe was in behind me, the pilot took off and I moved to the other end, not wanting to talk to him until I absolutely had to. I needed to get used to his presence before I got comfortable with him.


	3. To Land

**To Land**

_Cayden_

Flying over the ocean made me remember things that I really didn't want to. The water made me think of the time we had spent by the sea. The late night strolls on the beach, the kisses under the moon, and the Edgar Allan Poe poem that he had recited to me. I could still hear his voice…

"_It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea. That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee. And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me._

"_I was a child and she was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love – I and my Annabel Lee. With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me._

"_And this was the reason that long ago, in this kingdom by the sea; a wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee. So that her kinsman came and bore her away from me, to shut her up in a sepulcher in this kingdom by the sea._

"_The angels, not half so happy in heaven, went envying her and me. Yes! That was the reason (as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea) that the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. _

"_But out love it was stronger by far than the love of those who were older than we – of many far wiser than we – and neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee. _

"_For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And so, all the night tide, I lie down by the side of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride. In the sepulcher there by the sea. In her tomb by the sounding sea."_

I shook my head to clear the thoughts away. That wasn't the kind of thing that I needed to be thinking of before a mission like this. I needed to be focusing my mind on more important things.

So, to take my mind off of it, I pulled the black bag towards me – the bag that held the things that I always took on my sniper missions. And that included a new sniper rifle. Only the best. I took it out and held it in my hands for a moment, silently connecting with it. I could still remember my first day at Quantico for the sniper training. Everyone had thought that I was strange for doing that – just sitting there, holding the rifle in my hands. They had laughed at me for taking so long to shoot. They had taunted me, saying that I was too scared and that a girl like me shouldn't be handling a gun like that. Well, I had shut them all up when I had hit the bulls-eye every single time that day.

From then on, everyone respected me. If I wanted to hold the gun in my hands for hours, people would let me. Some people even tried to start copying my technique. I had several people come up and ask me why I held the gun like that and all I'd been able to tell them was, "It's how we connect". But no one else could do that and get the same results that I did. No one was like me.

No one had ever been like me. I had attended public school up until sixth grade, and I had always been the smartest one in my class, by far. Some teachers gave me extra work, just because they didn't like the fact that there was a good possibility that I was smarter than them. After sixth grade, I had gone to a private school and had excelled there, as well. I had offers to go to any school that I wanted: Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Vanderbilt…you name it. But I hadn't wanted it. I had wanted to do something else, something that would surprise people.

And it had.

No girl had ever been as good as I had with a sniper rifle. Sure, there were some female snipers, but none of them held a candle to what I could do. Actually, no one – male or female – could. I'd heard it said over and over again. Professors, operatives, directors…

The waves below the helicopter swished and I looked down. It was almost hypnotic. Just like the water had been at the beach when I'd been with him…

_Stop_, I commanded myself, pulling the gun tighter, closer to me. _You can't think about that._

I ran my hand over the weapon, feeling everything. It felt like an old friend, something familiar on this strange trip. I made a mental note to shoot it once before I would actually have to use it. Until then, though, I knew that I just needed to practice holding it and aiming it so that I would have the motions down. Some people didn't believe me, but every gun – even if it was the same model – was different. And every sniper should know that.

I raised the gun as if I were going to fire, even though there was nothing to shoot at in the water. A headache coursed through my brain, just because I hadn't slept in a few days. Still, I lowered the gun and then raised it again, getting used to the weight of the rifle; it was lighter than the last one had been. And not the kind of rifle that I usually preferred, but it would have to do.

Once more, I raised it. And I smiled because I could feel it.

_Joe_

Cayden wasn't a normal woman, that much was obvious. First of all, she didn't look at me the way that other women did. It was like she wasn't attracted to me at all. Which was fine, but usually I could get some kind of reaction out of women, whether it was something as subtle as the eyes widening or something as big as a gasp of surprise. And secondly, she was quiet. Most women wanted to have a conversation, even if there was nothing to talk about. They'd bring up things that didn't matter, boring things that made me want to fall asleep and not wake up until they were done talking.

And third, there was the way that she handled the gun. I watched her from the corner of my eye, thinking it was strange, the way that she just held the gun as if it were her child. She ran her hand over every surface, as if mapping it out for future reference. Maybe that's what she was doing, I wouldn't know. I had never been a very good sniper.

I had wanted to be, though. I had attended the classes and I could make a shot if need be, but it probably wouldn't be a very great shot. It would do damage, but it wouldn't kill. I had tried during all of the classes, I really had, but I just wasn't all that great at it. Even though I could do the math and factor in the wind and everything, I just didn't have the knack for it.

But just watching Cayden aim the rifle told me that she was very good at what she did. Watching the concentration in her eyes and on her face…

She raised the gun once again and I knew that if there had been a target down by the water, she would have hit it. It was like watching a boy play chess and knowing that he had dedicated his whole life to that game. Or like watching a cowboy riding a horse and knowing that he loved it more than anything in the world. I didn't like to make assumptions about people – not in my field – but I would have bet almost anything that Cayden was in her element while holding a gun. That she was the best in her field because it was who she was – who she had forced herself to become. Just like I had forced myself to become the best operative in the field. I had to be in order to catch the Circle.

I dozed off for a little bit, though I knew that I would have been able to wake up at the slightest alarming sound. What woke me was the helicopter's descent. I opened my eyes and looked down, taking in the surroundings. We were in the middle of the woods, just like Mr. Irving's file had said that we would be. The log cabin was pretty nice, two stories. There was a car in the detached garage that we would be able to use and a helicopter in the large white building out back that Cayden and I would be able to use in case of emergencies. I wondered if she knew how to fly a helicopter, because I really didn't. I mean, I could probably manage, but it wouldn't exactly be a smooth ride.

I looked over at my new partner and saw that she was wide awake. I wondered vaguely if she had slept at all like I had. She had still been practicing with her gun when I had fallen asleep. Her ponytail blew in the breeze and just looking at her surprised me. I had always considered myself hard, but she took hard to a completely different level. The stony expression on her face…

The helicopter landed and Jackson, the driver, called back, "Good luck!"

"Thanks!" I responded, but Cayden made no comment as she grabbed her bags and jumped out of the helicopter. I followed suit and we headed for the door.

"I'll take the back," she said.

I nodded.

She disappeared around the corner of the house and I cautiously approached the front door, setting my bags down just outside. After a breath, I opened the door and moved inside, moving my eyes all around to look for threats. I could hear Cayden at the other end of the house. "Clear!" she said.

"Clear!" I responded. "Finish this floor and I'll look upstairs."

"Got it."

I moved upstairs, going through all of the rooms. When nothing was found, I went back downstairs and saw Cayden. She nodded at me. "Clear."

"Clear up there, too," I responded. "Let's de-bug this place."

Well, turns out, there were no bugs, but it was better safe than sorry. After we were sure that everything was clear, we went to grab our bags. "There are two bedrooms upstairs," I told her. "And one down here. You can pick first."

"I'll take one upstairs."

I nodded. "I'll take the one down here, then."

She didn't respond. She picked up two large duffel bags and then reached for the bag that held her sniper rifle.

"Here," I offered to be nice. After all, we'd be working together for many months, so we might as well get off on a good foot. "I'll take that."

"No," she said quickly.

I recoiled. "Sorry."

She shook her head. "No, it's just that I don't let _anyone_ touch my gun."

I nodded. "I can understand that."

She picked up the bag and headed for the stairs. "Good night."

"Night."

After she was gone, I sat on the couch and sighed. The last partner on a mission had talked nonstop. Cayden hardly talked at all. And I wasn't sure which one I liked best.

With another sigh, I moved to my new room to put down my bags. Then, I got into the bed and turned off the lights, ready to finally get some sleep.


	4. To Settle

**To Settle**

_Joe_

_I was running down a long hallway that never seemed to end. I wasn't sure what I was running towards, I only knew that I had to run. If I didn't run, something bad was going to happen. Or, maybe I was running towards something. Or maybe towards someone…_

"_Joe!"_

_I froze, stopping dead in my tracks. I knew that voice…I had heard it throughout my life. _

"_Joe!"_

"_Matt!" I called back, taking off running again, sprinting. I had to get to him. I had to save him. "Matt, where are you?"_

"_Joe!"_

_And then a gunshot. _

I sat up in bed, dripping in sweat. That dream had seemed so real… The gunshot still rang in my head, echoing. Instantly, I had a headache and I got out of bed to go over to my bag to look for some painkillers. After I had taken two, I decided to take a shower to let the hot water relax my muscles. But I wasn't sure that it would do any good. I hadn't had a dream about Matt for a long time. Having one so suddenly didn't bode well. I was going to have to do everything possible to push it away from my mind so that I would be able to focus.

I turned on the water in the bathroom that connected to my room and it sprayed form the showerhead, a steady stream. I quickly stripped out of my clothes and was about to step into the shower when I caught sight of my face in the mirror and stopped. Slowly, I approached the sink until I could grip its edge and stare at my face in the mirror. And what I saw kind of surprised me. I hadn't looked at myself in a mirror since I'd finished my last mission.

My green eyes were tired, but not because I hadn't gotten sleep last night. They were tired of the things that they had been forced to witness. I had a scar on my forehead from a shard of glass that had cut me when my bullet had rebounded against a mirror. The scar was fading, though, with the help of some special cream that the CIA doctors had given me. My skin was paler than normal, I didn't exactly have time to go out and tan. My blonde hair was sticking up in all kinds of places from a night of tossing and turning during my bad dream. But, at least it was cut neatly; I had taken the liberty of asking one of the doctors to cut it so that it wouldn't grow out too fast for me. I had never been very good at cutting my own hair, though I could if I absolutely had to.

Joe Solomon. The man staring back at me from the mirror. The man that was both feared and respected. The man that I hadn't used to be and the man that I never would have been without Matt. If Matt hadn't gotten me out of the Circle, there's no telling where I would be now. Probably dead.

The mirror finally fogged over and I stepped into the shower, the hot water like a thousand needles pricking my cold skin. When I finally got used to the temperature, though, my muscles began to relax. I washed my hair and my body and then finally stood under the water, just letting it soak into me.

After I had toweled off, I went out into my room to find clothes for the day. We – Cayden and I – weren't going to be doing anything for at least two weeks because we had to get settled in to our safe house first and had to get used to each other and the surrounding area (and she had to practice with her gun), so the clothes didn't need to be anything nice. I pulled on underwear and then grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, along with a pair of socks because my feet were getting cold. It had just turned December, and winter in this area of the world could be quite brutal. Then, I pulled on a plain white T-shirt and a red sweater over that.

I went back into the bathroom to shave, lathering the shaving cream onto my face before carefully dragging a razor down my face to remove all stubble. Then, I put on some aftershave and combed my hair down so that it wouldn't look too wild. I didn't have anyone to impress, but I didn't want Cayden to think that I was inadequate and unprofessional. If she didn't think much of me, then we wouldn't be very good partners. And that could be very dangerous.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment longer before I finally left and headed for the kitchen, hoping that there would be something good that wouldn't be a hassle to cook up. I mean, I could cook pretty much anything (I had gone undercover at a culinary school for a while) but I didn't want to spend an hour cooking my breakfast. But, the CIA usually did a pretty good job stocking up food, so I wasn't too worried.

The smell of bacon and eggs hit me like a wall as soon as I approached the kitchen and my mouth immediately began to water. So, I wasn't going to have to cook anything after all.

Cayden stood with her back to me, buttering a piece of toast. I felt kind of bad since she had beat me awake and downstairs to breakfast, but I didn't let it bother me too much. Someone always has to be up first. I would probably beat her one day, too.

"Morning," I said, my Culture training kicking in. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," she responded and I wondered if she had ever had a Culture teacher. "There's bacon and eggs and you can make yourself some toast if you want."

"Thank you," I told her and she nodded once before heading for the living room to eat.

_Cayden_

I woke up and looked over at the clock on my bedside table. It's blinking red numbers told me that it was 4:43 a.m., but I knew that it was really no use going back to sleep. Besides, I never needed more than four hours of sleep a night, and I had gotten at least five. At the academy, they had used to make us stay up all night and then train the next day, just to see how long we could last. Some people never even made it a day; they passed out during training and were taken to the infirmary. Others made it a couple of days and others made it almost a week before they started to hallucinate and drive themselves crazy. I had made it until the commander had finally ordered it stopped, convinced that I would kill myself. But I wouldn't have done that. I had found a place inside my mind that I could escape to when the pain got to be too much. But I hadn't discovered it at training. I had found that place a long time ago.

I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom that was attached to my room. The house was pretty nice, I had decided last night. The furniture wasn't too old and while it wasn't designer, it was still nice. Everything was nice and clean and in good condition. The water heated up pretty fast and the electricity seemed to run well. My bed had been very comfortable and the heater had kept me fairly warm, even though the house was chilly this morning just from the morning air outside. The first thing that I did was take my hair down from its ponytail and brush it. When it was down, it reached to the end of my shoulder blades, and it was thinner than it looked when it was up in a ponytail. After I had brushed it out, I turned the shower water on and took off my clothes.

I had to look away when I saw my reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the door. I looked worse for wear. I was too thin, as I often was after big missions. I had lost a little bit of my muscle, but not too much – it wouldn't be a big deal to get back. I decided to work on that for the next couple of weeks, along with shooting the new rifle. After all, we couldn't do anything until Dominic came back to his headquarters.

I stepped into the shower and sighed, loving the temperature of the water and the steady rhythm that the drops made on my shoulders and my back. As I washed, I thought about my plans for the day. Practicing with the gun would be my number one priority, but then I planned to go running and survey the area, killing two birds with one stone. I wondered what Joe would do, but I told myself that I really didn't care. He could do whatever he wanted to do; it made no difference to me.

After my shower, I used a CIA issued blow dryer that made virtually no sound, very useful if you needed to dry your hair and there was someone that you didn't want to wake up. Plus, it could also be used to melt glass, but that's a different story. After my hair was dry, I put some product in it and pulled it up in a ponytail so that I wouldn't have to mess with it. There was no one that I needed to impress; Joe wasn't my boss, he was my equal.

I pulled on underwear and sweatpants, along with a T-shirt and a hoodie. My tennis shoes went on next, and then I headed downstairs to get myself some breakfast. There was a lot of food – the CIA had done extremely well in stocking the place. There were English muffins and frozen waffles, Pop-Tarts and cereal, oatmeal and coffee. And that's just breakfast food. There was also plenty of food for lunches and dinners. I supposed that I could have just poured myself some cereal or popped a waffle in the toaster, but I wanted something more. I was pretty hungry. So, I found some eggs and some bacon and got started cooking.

I had a special way to make scrambled eggs; my scrambled eggs were always perfect, soft and creamy. The bacon sizzled away in the pan and I put a piece of toast in the toaster. In the fridge, I found some butter and some strawberry jam, which I decided to use for my toast. Then, I got the coffee started. There was going to be some food left over, but I figured that Joe would eat it.

It's not that I didn't like Joe or anything. I really just didn't like to talk to people. I figured that I was better off on my own. After all, I was the only person that I knew for sure would never betray me. And I had learned that lesson the hard way.

I heard footsteps as I buttered my toast and I knew that Joe was awake. "Morning," he said. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine," I responded, spooning some jelly onto my toast. "There's bacon and eggs and you can make yourself some toast if you want."

"Thank you," he said.

I nodded and grabbed my plate, heading for the living room. As I sat down on the couch to eat, I could hear him getting a plate down from the cabinet and putting the food onto his plate. Good, the food wouldn't go to waste.

I took a bite of my scrambled eggs and allowed myself to smile. Just as good as I remembered. And I planned to take my time and enjoy every single bite of this breakfast.


	5. To Begin

**To Begin**

_Cayden_

They had taken the liberty of preparing a range for me, complete with spare targets and a switch that would make the targets move. I could even set the speed at which I wanted them to move. It was perfect. So, I assembled the rifle and found a good distance. I started with a straight shot on an unmoving target, just so I could get used to the way that the gun shot. It was another reason that some people thought that I was strange, but it was true – all guns shot differently. I probably could have still hit Dominic even if I hadn't practiced with the gun, but I didn't want to risk it. I wanted it to be perfect. One shot, one kill. That was the sniper's motto.

After a few shots, I felt that I was ready. So, I started out with the targets only going five miles an hour, and I was able to hit every one of them. So, I increased the speed to ten, and then to twenty. And I never missed a shot, not that I had thought that I would. I hadn't missed a shot since my first year at the academy, and I still think I got screwed over on that one.

It was this stupid training exercise, and they had woken us all up in the middle of the night and brought us down to the range. I had no shoes on and I was still achy from the Chinese martial arts class that we had all been taking as a requirement. They handed each of us a gun that we didn't normally shoot with and then, one at a time, we stepped up to shoot a moving target.

Everybody missed, and I was the last one in line. So, I had stepped up and aimed, trying to ignore the muscle in my arm that I had pulled during training and that still wasn't completely healed. After all, I wasn't one for excuses – not anymore. So, I had waited and when the target came into sight, I had pulled the trigger. What they hadn't let me do was practice with my gun. And I'd had no idea that the recoil would be that powerful. So, in addition to missing the shot, the gun had jammed into my shoulder and broken my arm, putting me out of training for six weeks. And I had been angry beyond belief. In fact, I had demanded to do that very exercise again and, needless to say, I hadn't missed that time. Or the time after that. In fact, I had never missed a shot again.

You may have heard of Annie Oakley – or, as they called her, Sure Shot Annie Oakley. Well, people began to call me Sure Shot or Sure Shot Cayden Sanders behind my back. But, soon, people called me Sure Shot to my face. And I didn't mind. They weren't calling me a name to make fun of me; they respected me.

And it had been like that ever since.

I took another shot and when I confirmed that I had made it, I turned the machine off, done with target practice for the day. In fact, I probably wasn't going to shoot again until right before Joe and I went to go take Dominic out. And there was no telling when that would be. We had to tail him to find out his habits and then do surveillance on his house and his businesses. We had to make sure that we knew his patterns and when we would shoot him. And, we had to figure out what he had planned for Saudi Arabia. I figured it was some plot to kill as many Muslims as possible, seeing as how Dominic's file said that he had always hated Muslims and saw it as a personal mission from Jesus Christ to rid the world of them. Pleasant man, huh?

I disassembled my gun and made sure that it was put up properly before I stood up and headed into the house. Joe was in the living room going over something in a file and I didn't disturb him. Instead, I climbed the stairs and went into my room to stash the gun in the safe. Then, I went back outside and stretched for a while, planning on going for a long run to begin getting myself back into shape. In fact, with the workout plan that I had already begun to form in my head, I would be back in top physical condition within a week. But, it was going to be killer and I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to be sore this whole week. But, sacrifices have to be made sometimes so that you can get what you want.

I started out with a light jog, though I had soon increased that to a flat out run. I had been in track in high school (and had, in fact, received athletic scholarships to colleges for track and field, but I had declined them all). Leaves crackled and sticks broke under my feet. My breath came out as a white fog in the cold air and I knew that I would have to stop running soon or else I would catch pneumonia. But I didn't stop running until my hands started shaking; it just felt too good. And, when I did stop, I still power walked all the way back to the house.

Once inside, I grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen and I headed for my room again and took a shower before I put on different clothes and pulled my hair into a messy ponytail. Then, I got out files and began to read. If Joe was going over them, then I figured that I should, too. After a while, though, I just got too exhausted to read another sentence. So, I put the file away and laid down on the bed to take a nap.

Getting back in shape is exhausting.

_Joe_

I had watched her. First, she had practiced at the range that I was sure Mr. Irving had arranged. After all, it wasn't a normal range – it was like the ranges at Blackthorne. The targets could move at a speed of your choice and the targets were all different sizes and shapes. In fact, I probably could have hit some of them if I hadn't been as far back as Cayden shot from. Or from the different positions. She shot form up in a tree, and then off to the side, and then from the ground, hitting the target every time. Of course, I wouldn't have been able to use her gun, either. Sniper rifles had never appealed to me.

After she had shot, she had headed to the house and I had hurried into the living room, not wanting to be caught watching her. I had opened the first file I could grab and had begun to read. And when she came in, she glanced at me but didn't say a word before she headed upstairs to her room. She came right back down again, however, and went back outside, though she didn't have the gun with her. So I walked to the window and peeked out. She was stretching, and I assumed that she was going to work out. I decided that was a good idea and I should begin working out myself, but I decided not to start until tomorrow. Cayden took off running into the woods and I watched until I couldn't see her anymore. Then, I decided to snoop.

Yes, I know that snooping is wrong, but that's only under _normal_ circumstances. But when you can speak thirty different languages and are practiced in twelve different kinds of martial arts, normal isn't a word that really applies. And, plus, spies are supposed to snoop. It's in the job description and everything.

So I went through her bag first, careful to make sure nothing was moved. I didn't want her to know that I had been snooping. Actually, I wasn't even sure what I was snooping for. I didn't think that she was an enemy agent or anything; I guess I was just curious. Because when you're going to have to share a house with someone for anywhere from three to seven months, you kind of want to know what kind of person they were.

I was looking for anything. A certain clothing type that would tell me if she liked to dress up or if she liked to be casual. A receipt from a coffee shop that would tell me if she preferred a latte or a mocha. A book that would tell me if she liked biographies or crime novels. A bag of candy that would give away her secret indulgence. A picture, maybe, of a mom and dad that were very proud of their daughter. Or an iPod that would tell me if she liked to listen to rock music or if she preferred classical.

But, the only thing that I really found that gave anything away was a brown paper bag, which held ten packages of those Ricola cough drops that claim to be great tasting, even though I've never known a cough drop to be great tasting. It wasn't that odd, really, unless you added in the fact that all ten of the packages contained the same flavor: Lemon Mint. Well, it wasn't much of a clue, but I took it as a small one. It would have to be good enough until I talked to her and got to know her better.

After I made sure that everything was right back where it had been before I walked into the room, I went back down the stairs and sat down on the couch, holding the file but not reading it. I just couldn't figure her out, and I didn't like it.

Abby Cameron had been easy to figure out; mostly because she had thrown herself all over me. She'd talked nonstop, about me, about herself, or about the weather outside. She was so desperate for me to like her that I almost yelled at her once that I wasn't interested. And it's not because she's not pretty, because she is. It's just that I've never been one for relationships, and I didn't plan on starting one with her. If I was going to start a relationship with someone, she was going to have to be one incredible girl to make me change my mind about dating. And I didn't think that that person existed.

Cayden came back in from her run and passed through the living room, her face flaming red. She held a package of Pop-Tarts in her hand, and I decided that those sounded pretty good. Without a word to me, she headed up the stairs and the door to her room shut. I heard the shower start and I sighed as I stood and moved towards the kitchen to grab myself a package of Pop-Tarts for lunch. As I ate them, I wondered if Cayden and I would make good partners. We hadn't really been around each other that long, but we were both highly skilled and we didn't exactly _dis_trust each other, so that was good.

But, we hadn't interacted that much either, and that bothered me. I knew that we needed to get to know each other. Watch each other fight; get used to the way that we each think; go over codes and such. But, I also knew that Cayden would realize that, too, and I was planning on waiting for her to say something. I feared that if I pushed her, she would put up a wall and be impossible to work with.

One thing was for sure, though: this was the beginning. Of what, I wasn't exactly sure. But it was a beginning, nonetheless.


	6. To Observe

**To Observe**

_Joe_

My suspicions proved to be correct. The very next day, while I was heating up some oatmeal in the microwave, Cayden came in wearing jeans and a long sleeved blue shirt, her hair up in some kind of twisty thing. "Hey, Joe."

"Hey," I replied, smiling pleasantly.

She moved past me to get a packet of oatmeal for herself and then she got down a bowl. She tore open the packet and poured the contents into the bowl, and then moved for the refrigerator to get the milk. So, she used milk in her oatmeal and not water. "I was just thinking that we need to start getting to know each other," she said. "I mean, in a professional capacity."

And she also didn't beat around the bush. Two new facts in less than a minute. "I agree. Did you have anything in mind?"

She measured out the milk and poured the appropriate amount in the bowl before she stirred it with a spoon. "I figured we could work out together this morning, for starters."

The microwave beeped and I opened the door, reaching in to grab my bowl. "That sounds good. Did you have anything in mind?"

"I usually start with a run," she said as she put her bowl in the microwave. She closed the door, punched in the numbers, and stepped back. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking at me with her big blue eyes. "But we can do whatever."

I stirred my oatmeal with a spoon. "A run sounds good. We could work martial arts, too, if you want."

She nodded slowly. "That sounds like a plan. We'll need to familiarize ourselves with each other's fighting abilities."

"_Can_ you fight?" I asked her, and then realized how insulting that was. I faced her. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…well…I don't know much about your background, so I don't know if you, like, went to Gallagher and trained or if you…"

She shrugged as if to tell me that she wasn't offended. "I did most of my training at the academy. I can fight; Chinese martial arts, mostly, although I studied Korean for a bit."

I nodded slowly. "Okay. We can work out after breakfast."

The microwave beeped and she took out her own bowl of oatmeal. We ate mostly in silence, probably because we both wanted to get done so that we could work out. I finished first, so I went to change into basketball shorts and a T-shirt, along with running shoes. I went out back to stretch, and she joined me only a minute later, wearing shorts and a sports bra. It struck me as odd that she was only wearing that, but then I realized that it wasn't really all that cold out.

Now, let me tell you, I hate women that are insecure and are always complaining about something. On the other hand, I also hate women that are overconfident and think that they can go around showing off their figure all of the time (especially when they're the ones that really shouldn't, if you know what I mean). But Cayden didn't fit into either of those categories. She was well toned, her stomach flat, and I realized – with a little bit of shame for thinking that way – that she had a nice body.

"Let me stretch real quick," she said and I nodded.

While she stretched, I was careful not to look at her. Like I said, I didn't have any romantic feelings towards her, but I am a guy and when we see a hot body like hers…we tend to go a little crazy.

Finally, she stood up. "I'm ready. How far do you want to run?"

"I don't care," I replied and gestured for her to go first. "I'll match you."

She nodded and then took off at a slow jog that I suspected (and hoped) was just a warm-up. And it was. After a minute, she sped up to a run and I kept up nicely. Then, she increased the speed even more. I got a sense that she loved running, just by the way that she breathed and her steady, sure movements.

She increased to a full blown sprint, and then stopped after a few minutes of that, finally done. We both panted as we walked along, and I finally said, "You're pretty good."

She gave me a small smile. "Thanks. I've always loved to run."

"So," I said. "About my earlier question: Did you attend Gallagher?"

"That's that academy that has the cover of the preppy boarding school, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "I take it you didn't go there?"

She shook her head and stepped over a jutted root. "Nope."

"Did you go to school in another country?"

"No," she answered. "What about you?"

"I went to Blackthorne," I said, hoping that if I showed that I didn't mind sharing information with her, she wouldn't mind sharing information with me.

"That's the detention center, right? I mean, that's its cover?"

"Yep," I answered. "Did your school have a cover?"

She shook her head. "I went to public school until sixth grade and then I went to private school."

I stopped walking and looked at her, a little surprised. "You didn't have any kind of training, and somehow you've still managed to become the best sniper ever born?"

She stopped walking, too, and shrugged. "I guess."

I shook my head slowly. "How did you manage that?"

"I just did," she replied and continued walking.

I took the hint and dropped the subject. "So," I said as I fell into step beside her. "Are we going to work on martial arts next?"

"I suppose," she said. "My martial arts could definitely use some touching up."

"I can imagine," I said and then realized that I had probably insulted her yet again. "I mean, I'm not saying that you're incapable or anything. It's just that snipers are usually out of the action." And, insult number three. "I mean, you're in the action. You're just…"

Why did I keep digging myself a deeper hole?

She didn't even look at me as she offered me a ladder. "Too far away to really need to use hand-to-hand combat?"

"Yeah," I said, relieved. "But, hey, if you need help, I could train you a little bit."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." And, maybe, with some luck, I could keep from insulting her for at least an hour.

_Cayden_

His comment about snipers was hilarious. He probably felt like he had insulted me, but that's not how I had taken it. I had wanted to laugh, actually. But I didn't. Instead, I had gotten him out of it, and he had accepted it gratefully.

We walked all the way back to the house and then gone – as if by prior agreement – to a cleared space in the huge yard. We faced each other and he suggested, "Let's go slow motion first, okay? Just so that I can see where you're at."

I shrugged. I really didn't care; if he wanted to help me become a better martial artist, I was all for it. I was always striving to get better. So, I threw a slow front punch and he blocked it. I went for a kick next, which he blocked easily. It went like this for about a minute and a half, and then he said, "Okay, I think we can pick it up a little bit."

I nodded and took a deep breath before launching into a fight. But, I was on my back within a few seconds.

Joe's hand reached out to help me up. "Sorry. I forgot that you're not that experienced."

"Don't worry about it," I coughed and took his hand to let him pull me to my feet.

"Okay, let me just show you some moves."

An hour later, I could honestly say that I was a better martial artist. Joe and I went inside to get some water, and we both drank nearly a gallon combined. "You're good," I commented.

He shrugged. "I trained hard. That was kind of my specialty at Blackthorne; fighting."

"So Blackthorne is like Gallagher?"

"Not really," he answered as he put his glass in the dishwasher. I followed suit. "It's more of a school for…assassins."

"Oh."

He seemed surprised. "That doesn't seem to bother you at all."

I shrugged. "It doesn't. What do you think I am?"

"That's true," he admitted. "Anyway, at Blackthorne, they figure out what you're best at and they train you in that, even though we have to be skilled in every area."

"So did they have sniper training at Blackthorne?"

"It was an advanced course," he answered. "You didn't have to take it. And if you did want to take it, you had to pass a shooting test. Honestly, I'm not sure that I could have passed. I've never really been one for guns. I can use one, but I prefer other techniques."

I nodded. "I see."

"I'd love to see you shoot, though, if that's okay."

I shrugged. "Sure. I'll go get the gun."

I went into the house and up to my room, and once I had retrieved the gun from the safe, I went downstairs and out to the range, where Joe was standing, looking around as if he were lost. When he saw me, he smiled rather sheepishly. "Um, I didn't know where you wanted me to stand or anything, so..."

"Just come and stand by me," I said. "Stay close, preferably right behind my left shoulder."

He nodded and came to stand where I had directed. The last thing that I wanted to do was shoot him by accident. There would, of course, be an inquiry where the CIA would investigate whether I had done it on purpose because I was a secret agent or whether it had been an accident. It would just be a giant mess.

I brought out a straight target first and shot it without hesitation. It hit the very center.

"You didn't even aim," Joe whispered, as if he hadn't really meant to say it out loud.

"Stay here," I told him and then moved away to set the moving targets up. Then, I headed for a tree. "Don't move!" I called to Joe before hoisting myself up the tree easily. I observed the moving targets and then began to shoot, hitting them all within a span of ten seconds.

When I got back over to Joe, he looked impressed. "I could never shoot like you do."

"I could never fight like you do," I said, allowing myself a small smile. "So we're even."

He laughed. "I guess we are."

I took apart the gun while Joe watched and I put it carefully into the bag. Then, we both headed inside. Joe announced that he would cook supper and I agreed. I went to go put up the gun and take a quick shower, finding the day sort of productive, but mostly a little strange.

Joe hadn't seemed reluctant to share anything at all. He'd been really open and nice; he had smiled and laughed as if we were really friends. It made me wonder what kind of operative he was. I mean, operatives are supposed to be hard and reluctant to trust. But he hadn't seemed reluctant at all.

I pulled on the clothes that I had been wearing before we had gone to work out, and I put my hair in a bun that looked fancy, but really only took me a minute to do. Then, I headed downstairs, where I the aroma of frying chicken greeted me.

And there was another thing: it seemed that he could actually cook. That was strange for an operative, not to mention a man.

It seemed that Joe Solomon and I were learning a whole lot about each other. And it seemed that the day had been all about observation.


	7. To Await

**To Await**

_Cayden_

The day began for me at three a.m. I got up and went to go for my morning run, and then did some pull ups, sit ups, and push ups. Finally, I went back inside, took a shower, and pulled on jeans and a red long sleeved shirt. I wasn't surprised to find that I was a bit sore. That martial arts session yesterday had been pretty intense. And then there was just the fact that I was getting back into the best physical shape possible. Running five miles everyday and doing countless pull ups, sit ups, and push ups could do that to you.

I decided that it would be a good idea to go over the files again because you can never be too prepared. The silence disturbed me a bit, though, so I took my iPod out of the safe and put the earbuds into my ears. Why did I hide the iPod in the safe? Simple. So that no one could get to it. I'd had a partner on a mission two years earlier that I had found snooping in my room. When I'd asked him about it, he'd simply said that he had wanted to find out more about me. As it turns out, he was a double agent, one that was working for an organization called the Circle of…Cavan or something like that. So, needless to say, I locked anything and everything that would give away the real me in my safe – although, there really wasn't that much that I brought with me. I had a picture that I just couldn't bear to go without and my iPod, but that was pretty much it.

The song that played was an old one, but I had grown up listening to that kind of music. And hearing it again made me flash back to times when my dad would put on old records – he had never grown into the CD age – and twirl me around the living room because I was too little to dance properly. And I had laughed and laughed, my blonde hair flying out in a curtain behind me. It had been so much fun, just spending time with him.

"Daddy, please don't; it wasn't his fault. He means so much to me. Daddy please don't; we're gonna get married. Just you wait and see…."

My Dad had used to love to pause the songs and ask me what I thought they meant. _There's a message in every song_, he loved to tell me. _What's this one?_ And I had answered, _I guess her Daddy is mad at her boyfriend or doesn't like him or something._

"Every night, the same old dream I hate to close my eyes. I can't erase the memory, the sound of Julie's cry. She called me up late that night and said 'Joe, don't come over. My dad and I just had a fight, and he stormed out the door. I've never seen him act this way, my God, he's goin' crazy. He said he's gonna make you pay for what we've done; he's got a gun. So, run, Joey, run, Joey, run.'"

_So they did something bad and now her dad wants to kill him?_ I had asked my dad. When he'd agreed with my assessment, I had asked, _Doesn't that sound a little extreme?_ But he had smiled and put a hand on my shoulder and said, _There's nothing a father won't do to protect his little girl._

"Daddy, please don't; it wasn't his fault. He means so much to me. Daddy please don't; we're gonna get married. Just you wait and see…."

_But she loves him,_ I had said. And my dad had simply chuckled and shook his head. _Sometimes, parents know better than kids. _

"Got in my car and drove like mad, 'til I reached Julie's place. She ran to me with tear-filled eyes and bruises on her face. All at once I saw him there, sneaking up behind me. Julie yelled, 'he's got a gun' and she stepped in front of me. Then suddenly, a shot rang out, and I saw Julie fallin'. I ran to her, I held her close, when I looked down, my hands were red. And here's the last words Julie said."

"Daddy, please don't; it wasn't his fault. He means so much to me. Daddy please don't; we're gonna get married…."

"Run, Joey, run, Joey run. Joey run, Joey run. Joey run, Joey run…"

So, her father had been meaning to do good by killing Joey because he got Julie pregnant. Well, he ended up killing Julie, who loved Joey so much that she was willing to take the bullet for him, even though she was carrying their baby. So, in the end, the father had hurt the person that he'd actually been trying to protect. Kind of ironic, isn't it?

And, when I thought about it, that's what had happened between my father and I.

Tears filled my eyes and I shut the iPod off and took it back to the safe, not wanting to listen to it anymore. Instead, I read over the files in complete silence and tried to suppress the memories that the song was able to bring out in me. It had been a long time since I had listened to that song. How was it that shuffle had picked it out of two thousand other songs on my iPod?

Finally, I just couldn't read the files anymore. So, I put them away and then decided to go downstairs and get something to eat. I knew that Joe would be down there and that if I talked to him, I'd burst into tears, so I made up my mind to just put myself in a zone and ignore everything. So, with a deep breath, I opened my door and headed down the stairs taking them slowly, one at a time. And, the whole time, trying to get my father's face out of my mind, though his deep brown eyes seemed to follow me everywhere.

_Joe_

It was seven in the morning by the time that Cayden came down the stairs. I noticed that something was a little off about her, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was the way that she walked, with her head sort of ducked in such a way that I was unable to see her eyes. It was in the way that she moved, slowly, as if she were scared of running into something. It was in the way that didn't seem to notice anything around her.

"Morning," I said, trying to be polite.

But she didn't respond at all. She simply walked on, past me and into the kitchen. I thought that it was strange, but I decided not to say anything. Still, her weird behavior bothered me and I wasn't sure why. She wasn't a double agent; I just knew that she couldn't be. And there was no way that she was working for the Circle. How would they have recruited her if she hadn't gone to a school like Gallagher or Blackthorne? But, then again, they could have heard of her rather impressive shooting record and decided to pay her a visit. They could have used someone form inside the CIA to somehow hack into her records and see where she was going on her next mission. They could have met her there and offered her a huge sum of money to be a sniper for them. And with her on their side as their sniper, they could take out a lot of their enemies. Because normally, they didn't have very good snipers working for them. But Cayden was more than good; she was the very best. And the Circle was always after the very best.

_She's not a member of the Circle!_ My gut screamed at me. _I promise, she's not. She can't be. She isn't._ Well, my gut had saved my life more than a dozen times, so I decided to listen. And I really didn't think that Cayden was a member of the Circle either, I had just been exploring all possibilities like I'd been trained to do. But if she wasn't a double agent, then why was she acting so strange? It had seemed that we'd made a breakthrough the day before, with me teaching her some martial arts and with her answering a couple of my questions. I thought that we had been connecting, on however small a level. Was she regretting that? Was that why she was pulling away from me and completely ignoring me?

It made me a little angry, quite honestly. I just didn't like the whole bipolar thing of her being fine with me one day and completely ignoring me the next. It didn't fly with me. And I didn't know if it was some girlish thing, but if it was, it wasn't the type that I was used to. Normally, women just wouldn't shut up around me. They constantly wanted to be close to me; came up with all kinds of reasons to touch me. They'd fix their hair elaborately or wear provocative clothes. But she wasn't doing that (not that I minded that she wasn't). She was just completely ignoring me and it drove me crazy because I couldn't figure out why.

I heard the toaster pop from the kitchen and I tried to calm myself down. Maybe the explanation was simple. Maybe she just hadn't heard me. Maybe she was considering something from a file and was so busy focusing on it that she hadn't heard me speaking. But, I didn't think that was it, either. Operatives were trained to hear everything. And even though she hadn't been trained in an operative's school, I had a feeling that they would have trained her up at Quantico and then again at the CIA headquarters. After all, they didn't send people on missions unless they were one hundred percent confident that the person was well trained.

She came back into the room, an English muffin on her plate, and immediately began to head to the stairs, not meeting my eyes. So, she was ignoring me, for whatever reason.

"Hey," I said, making her freeze in her tracks. I had thought about confronting her, but I changed my mind. "Why don't we go over the blueprints and stuff that we have?"

She nodded without saying a word and moved to sit down on the couch across from me. So, we spent an hour going over blueprints and camera angles. But it was mostly just me talking to myself. Sometimes, I had to look up just to remind myself that she was even in the same room, looking at the same things that I was.

But, at least she was sort of paying attention. She was always looking at the paper on the coffee table when I looked up and she always seemed like she was focusing on what I was saying, though her mind could have been a million miles away for all I knew. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore. Is wiped the paper off of the coffee table and stuffed it into the folder. "Okay, never mind. We can do this another time."

She didn't seem to find my behavior strange at all. Instead, she stood, took her plate into the sink, and I could hear water running and then the sound of her putting the plate in the dishwasher. Then, she crossed back through the living room and headed up the stairs.

Suddenly angry, I got up and headed for my room, where I quickly changed into workout clothes. Then, I went outside and began to run, knowing that I needed to work some of the anger off before I completely exploded or something equally hideous. _Who does she think she is?_ I couldn't help but wonder to myself. I pushed myself into an even faster run, determined not to worry about it.


	8. To Argue

**To Argue**

_Joe_

There was tension from the moment I woke up, even though we weren't even in the same room, nor the same floor of the house. But I could feel it and it made me angry all over again. How could she act completely fine with me one day and then the next day hardly speak to me at all? What game was she trying to play, anyway? We were partners on this mission and we needed to be able to talk to each other and joke, if need be. We didn't need the kind of relationship where we were constantly avoiding each other and only speaking if there was something that absolutely needed to be said. That wasn't healthy and it wasn't going to work; it wouldn't fly with me. I was going to do something about it.

And the other haunting question was: why was this bothering me so much? I mean, it was completely understandable that I was upset by it, but why was I so angry? Why was I letting her get to me like that? And why did it affect me so much when she wasn't even _trying_ to get any emotions out of me?

But, then, if she wasn't trying to get emotions out of me, what the hell was she playing at? I was nice, wasn't I? I talked to her, answered her questions, and even taught her some martial arts. I had complimented her shooting and cooked dinner. I had been a completely nice guy, and she was discarding it all to keep to herself because of some stupid little game that she was playing. And it hadn't even been a week, but I was already fed up with it and it was going to have to stop. Immediately. Or sooner.

I got out of bed and moved the blinds to look out the window. The day was dark and gloomy, more so than usual. Because normal winter weather here made the skies kind of gray every day. But, today it looked like it was about to storm, and I couldn't help but smile ironically at how fitting that was. A storm brewing outside and a storm brewing inside. What's that called? Parallelism?

I let the blinds fall back into place and then I grabbed some clothes before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. For once, the hot water didn't relax my tense muscles and I had to once again ask myself how in the world she was getting such a rise out of me. I was normally calm, cool, and collected, and I had no idea why I was reacting this way. It's not like she had insulted me to my face or anything. But still, it got to me and I had no idea why. Or, maybe just the fact that I didn't know why it bothered me made it bother me that much more. Or, maybe I was just going around in circles in my mind and _that_ was driving me crazy.

I finally just turned the water off, even though I hadn't touched the shampoo or the body soap. I toweled off and pulled on the jeans and the sweater that I had brought in, and then I shaved, even though I had no idea why I was doing it. Who did I really need to impress? But, I kind of hated the feeling of stubble on my face and besides that, it was a routine, and I hated to break the little things that I got to have, like the routine of shaving every morning. Because sometimes, when I went on a mission where I couldn't take any time out to pause and shave my face, I would think about how much I missed shaving. So, whenever I had the opportunity in the morning to shave, I did. Because I knew how much I would miss it if it were gone.

I walked back out into my room, looking around and wondering if there was any way that I could just spend the whole day in there, away from her. But, I knew that would be rude and cowardly. I had to face her, no matter what the consequences of that might be. So, I took a breath and opened the door, heading out for the kitchen.

She wasn't there yet, but I could hear the shower running upstairs and I knew that it wouldn't be long. I found some muffin mix in the pantry and began to throw all of the ingredients together, thinking that having something to focus on would make it easier to face her when she came down. I poured the batter evenly in the muffin pan and then put it in the oven so that it could bake.

Still seething, I gripped the edge of the sink and went through the periodic table of elements in my head to calm myself down.

_Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Berylium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium…_

I could hear her footsteps on the stairs. Fantastic. I just knew that she wasn't going to say a word to me again, just like the day before, and it was going to make me angry all over again. And I hated it. I hated her for affecting me like this and I hated myself for letting her.

She walked into the kitchen, bringing with her the warm scent of vanilla. She looked first at me, and then at the bowl and mixer that I hadn't bothered to wash up, and then at the oven. Then, she looked at me again and said, "What are you doing?"

As calmly as I possibly could, I said, "I thought that it would be nice if I made breakfast. I'm making muffins."

She looked back at the oven and then at me, raising one eyebrow. "And how are you planning to do that if the oven isn't even on?"

Of course. No wonder I hadn't been able to smell the muffins baking. The freaking oven wasn't even on. I grit my teeth, walked over to the oven, and turned it on.

"Now it just has to preheat," she said.

I grit my teeth harder, opened the oven door, took out the muffin pan and set it on top of the stove. "Happy?"

Before she could answer, I walked out of the room as fast as my feet would take me. I went to my room and shut the door, throwing myself onto the bed and clutching at a pillow as if it would help my anger to tear the pillow in two.

After a few minutes, I heard the oven beep, the signal that it was done preheating. But I was too drained to worry about it. If she wanted to eat muffins for breakfast, then she could put them in the damn oven herself.

_Cayden_

I had no idea what his problem was. It was as if I had offended him simply by waking up. As I waited for the muffins to finish baking, I thought about my actions of the morning, trying to figure out what had offended him. Surely I hadn't offended him by taking a shower or by taking the time to blow dry my hair and run the straightener through it. I wore jeans and a blue American eagle shirt, but I really didn't think that my outfit was the problem.

Had he just woken up in a bad mood? It had certainly seemed that way.

The timer went off and I took the muffins out of the oven before turning it off. I grabbed the butter out of the fridge and buttered the top of the muffins, and then I put one on a plate for myself. I finished that in a matter of minutes and had another one on my plate before I realized that Joe had never come out to eat. Surely he had heard the timer go off…

Just as I was thinking that, he appeared. His expression hadn't changed at all; he still looked angry. But, at what, I just couldn't fathom. He grabbed a plate from the cabinet and moved toward the muffin pan. He grabbed one and practically threw it onto his plate before setting the plate down and moving to the fridge, where he took out the milk. After grabbing a glass form the cabinet, he began to pour himself a glass, and then he put the milk away, letting the cabinet door slam shut.

His anger was making me angry, I have to admit. I had no idea why he was acting this way. So, when he grabbed his plate and made a move to leave the room, I said, "What is your _problem_?"

He whirled around so fast that a bit of milk sloshed out of his glass and onto the tile floor. "_My_ problem?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes flashing with anger. "_My_ problem?"

"Yes," I said. "Your problem. Are you bipolar or something, because I think that's something that Mr. Irving should have told me."

"_Me_, bipolar?" he said, as if he couldn't even believe that I had just said that. "_You're_ the one that's freaking bipolar!"

Now _that_ shocked me. Where in the world had he gotten an idea like that? When did I ever act bipolar? "I'm not bipolar," I said, my voice telling him just how ridiculous I found his statement. "_You_ however, seem to have a problem right now and you seriously need to get it under control."

"_Me_?" He flung his plate into the seat, cracking it in two and sending muffin crumbs flying everywhere like snow. "You're the one that acted all fine the other day, working out with me and letting me teach you martial arts, and then yesterday, you acted like you didn't even know me! You hardly said a word to me the entire day!"

I thought back and realized that was true, but I hadn't done it because I was bipolar or because I was angry at him or anything. "I wasn't acting like I was angry at you," I defended. "I didn't know that you had to be talked two twenty four hours a day."

"I just don't take to being ignored," he retorted. "You're not the only one living in this house, you know. You're not the only one on the mission. You could at least _talk_ to me and pretend to care that I'm here, too."

"Like _you_ did this morning?" I quipped.

"You weren't exactly Little Miss Sunshine," he threw back at me. "Every day it's different with you; I never have any idea what to expect."

"Or maybe, next time you're offended by something that I do, you could tell me instead of acting like a big baby and breaking plates and pouting in your room!"

He threw up his hands like parents do when their teenagers just won't listen and they don't think that there's anything else that they can say to help. "Welcome to my life. How do you like this side of the fence? Because, I can tell ya, the grass isn't exactly greener! How's it feel to be treated the way that you've treated me?"

"I don't go breaking plates!"

"No," he said. "You just act like you're too good for this mission; too good for me. You act like you're the queen of the universe, going off by yourself to work out and spending all of your time up in your room and not talking to me when you _do_ decide to grace me with your presence. Did your parents let you act like that growing up? And you went to school with normal kids, right? Did you ever have a good relationship? Were you ever involved in a healthy relationship or did you never let anyone in just like you won't let me in, not even a little bit?"

By the time he spoke his last word, I was slamming the door shut behind me.


	9. To Apologize

**To Apologize**

_Joe_

It hadn't gone exactly like I had wanted it to. Okay, it hadn't gone _at all_ like I wanted it to. I had meant all of those things that I had said, but I probably shouldn't have yelled at her like that. When I reflected on the way that my voice had sounded, that loud, commanding yell, I flinched. It's a wonder that she hadn't crossed the room and attempted to slap me. _I_ would have, if I had been her. That hadn't been right for me to say. I should have been strong enough to just walk away. But I wasn't, and I hated myself for it. She hadn't deserved that. If I had just gone into my room for a few hours to calm down, then we could have gone on as if nothing were wrong.

I sat down in a chair at the small kitchen table and wondered how things were going to work out now. Was she going to hate me and never speak to me again? Would she contact Mr. Irving and beg to be replaced on this mission? Would she act like nothing was bothering her, even though she was seething inside? Would she call me out on my actions? But, the truth was that I just didn't know, so I decided not to try and figure out what she was going to do. There was absolutely no sense in that.

_So how do you fix this?_ I asked myself. While I went over the possibilities in my head, I heaved myself to my feet and walked over to the sink to inspect the damage that I had caused. The plate was broken into two pieces, with little chips all over the sink and the muffin has completely exploded, leaving hundreds of crumbs to sweep up. I started with the plate first, making sure that no more shards remained, and then I began to swipe up the crumbs, finding some all the way across the room. It was kind of amazing how far the explosion had spread. Finally, when the crumbs were gone and the plate was cleaned up, I turned my attention to the muffins that were still in the pan.

I wasn't hungry; I thought that if I ate I would just feel like puking it back up. So, I put the leftover muffins on a plate and set the plate in the microwave. Then, I took the muffin pan over to the sink and turned on the water. I found a washrag and a dishtowel, and then the dish soap and I carefully washed the pan. After it was clean, I put it away and wiped down all of the countertops with the wet rag. Then I looked around for anything else to do and that's when I realized what I was doing. I was avoiding going to look for Cayden, even though that's what I knew that I needed to do. This kind of thing wasn't just going to blow over on its own.

As I headed to my room to grab a jacket and shoes, I thought about Matt. Once, while we had been in Rome, he had talked to me about a fight that he and Rachel had about Cammie. They weren't sure if they wanted her to go to Gallagher or just grow up in a normal school; Matt wanted her to go to Gallagher, Rachel wanted her to have a normal life. It had turned into an argument and Matt had told me that he wished that he hadn't left the house mad. He'd said that he was scared because if he died, then the last thing he would have said to Rachel would have been words of anger, and he hated himself for that. And I had, too. Which was why I had been extremely glad when we had made it home from that mission and he had been given the opportunity to apologize to his wife and make things okay again.

And I needed to apologize to Cayden, even though she wasn't my wife. Because if she got killed, I knew that I would feel bad about making her so angry right before she had died. And, I had to admit, it was the right thing to do.

So, I went over the words that I would say and I sent up a prayer to a God that I really didn't believe in that she would forgive me. Because if we were holding a grudge between us, we wouldn't make very good partners on this mission. Of course, if she wanted out of the mission and was planning to talk to Mr. Irving, then we might not be partners for much longer. But, in all honesty, I wanted her to be my partner. Because I knew that I needed to have a sniper and if I was going to have one, I wanted the best. And that was definitely Cayden.

The air was chilly and I tried to remember what Cayden had been wearing. Jeans and a blue shirt…but no jacket. Not enough for the kind of weather that was going on outside. The wind made it even colder than it really was.

She wasn't out by the range and she wasn't anywhere in the yard, so I went to go check the white building that housed the helicopter. She wasn't there, either, so I groaned inwardly as I realized that I was going to have to track her. But, I found footprints that had to hers and I found them fairly quickly, so I thought that it probably wouldn't be that big of a deal.

I took off at a light jog, hoping that I could get her to accept my apology fairly quickly because it was cold outside and while I didn't want her to catch anything, I didn't exactly want to catch anything, either. And I was thinking that when the trail went cold.

"Crap!" I muttered out loud, trying to keep up my no-cussing streak even though I knew that I had probably cussed during my argument with Cayden. Okay, so _re-start_ my no-cussing streak.

I was going to have to apply some actual training in order to track her down. It was going to be hard (especially if she was _trying_ to not be found), but not impossible. Not for me.

_Cayden_

The first place that I thought to go was the range, but I didn't have my gun with me and there was no way in hell that I was going to go back into that house, even if it was to get my gun. Or a jacket.

I crossed my arms against the cold and took off at a run, thinking that the more I moved the less of the cold I would feel. And, that worked for a while, but it wasn't long before I could feel the wind biting at my nearly numb face. But, I had been through training like that at Quantico. They had put us all in a room and locked the door. At first, it had seemed kind of strange, but then I had felt it. The air conditioning. They took the temperature down to thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit at least, and we had to stay in there for hours. I remember how I had eventually gotten to the point where my body had stopped shivering, when I had become hypothermic. Each of us had had to spend at least two nights in the infirmary, where they made us drink hot water and stay covered with at least two thick blankets. Luckily, we'd never had to do that particular exercise again, but I had always dreaded that we would. It was, by far, my least favorite training op there.

And then, I found a tree with branches covered in leaves that I thought would give me pretty good cover. So, I hoisted myself up without a problem and nestled in the branches, burrowing in the leaves. And I had been right; it was extremely warm; so much better than facing the chilly air without cover.

But it wasn't long until I could hear footsteps. I knew that it was Joe, and I was kind of impressed that he was coming to apologize. Unless he wasn't coming to apologize… Maybe he was coming because he had thought of something else that he had forgotten to yell at me about.

The footsteps came closer and I tried to decide if I wanted to reveal myself or if I would just let him walk on. After all, if I wanted to be invisible, there was no way that he was going to be able to find me. But, I hadn't exactly made it too difficult for him to find me, either. I hadn't even thought about covering my tracks or anything. But the ground was hard, so would he really have all that good of a trail to follow? Or was he even looking for me? He could have just been walking to get off some anger or something.

And then I saw him pass right by my tree and suddenly stop, looking at the ground and then up and around at all of the trees. And he was wearing a very warm-looking black North Face jacket. I couldn't help it, I shivered. And he looked up. At first, he squinted because he couldn't figure it out, but then he seemed to understand. "Cayden? Are you up there?"

_To answer or not to answer?_ I asked myself. After a few moments, I finally just sat up, allowing him to see me. But, I didn't say a single word.

He saw me and gave me a sheepish smile before he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Oh; hey. I thought you might be up there."

I didn't say a word.

He sighed. "I thought as much. Look, Cayden, I came out here so that I could apologize."

"About what you said?" I asked.

"Kind of," he said. "I _meant_ most of the stuff that I said, but I shouldn't have said it. And I shouldn't have yelled."

"You meant it?"

He sighed. "Well, yeah. You were fine with me a couple of days ago and then yesterday you just completely ignored me."

"I wasn't ignoring you," I said. "I just didn't see anything worth talking about."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. I'm sorry that I took it the wrong way. It's just that I think that partners make better partners when they interact and talk to each other. I just get the feeling sometimes that you want nothing to do with me. And I get that you're used to working alone and everything, but we need each other for this one, okay?"

Everything that he said made perfect since. I _was_ used to working alone and I _did_ need him for this mission. There was no way that I could do it all by myself, even if I wanted to. So, I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get what you're saying."

He smiled. "Good. So, can we start over?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"That's going to require you getting out of the tree."

I swung my legs over and then dropped from the tree, landing lightly on my feet like a cat. "Okay; done."

He looked up to where I had been before, then at me, and then back up again, as if he couldn't believe that I had dropped that far and yet had barely made a sound when I had landed. Then, he shook his head and looked at me, holding out his hand. "I'm Joe. Joe Solomon."

I couldn't help but give a small smile as I reached out and gripped his hand. "I'm Cayden. Cayden Sanders."

He pumped our hands slowly up and down. "It's very nice to meet you, Cayden."

"You as well," I said softly, focusing only on how impossibly warm his hand was. "You as well."


	10. To Dream

**To Dream**

_Cayden_

_It was back in the olden times, the times when the idea of an automated car hadn't even been dreamed of yet. It was the time of King Henry and Queen Anne and Bloody Mary. The time of dukes and barons and princes. And, it seemed, I was a princess. But, I had the strangest feeling that I didn't want to be._

_My ladies helped me dress in a splendid white gown, all of them beaming and saying, "This ball will be terrific, Princess! You will finally get to meet your betrothed!" And I instinctively knew that my betrothed was the king of France, who was an older gentleman at least twenty years older than me. But, the marriage would bring power to both England and France, so my father had eagerly arranged it. All he ever wanted was power._

_They did my hair in an elaborate updo and put a string of pearls around my neck. I looked truly beautiful, and I had to for King François. After I was all dressed and ready, I began to make my way to the ballroom, where my engagement was to be announced. _

_As soon as I walked through the doors, the music stopped and heads turned to look at me. Everybody bowed or curtsied and women murmured about my fashionable dress and hair. Many men looked at me with lust in their eyes, even the married ones and even the ones that knew that I was engaged. With grace, I walked towards the front of the room where my mother and father sat on their thrones. _

_They both stood as I approached and my mother embraced me first, and then my father. When he pulled away from me, he called out, "Excuse me, ladies and gentleman. There is an announcement that needs to be made."_

_My heart beat loudly in my chest, so hard that I was surprised that it didn't just jump out of my chest and hit the floor. I didn't want to be engaged to this man. My only comfort was that engagements could last for a long time, and half the time they never lasted anyway. François could find a prettier lady and choose to marry her instead of me. It could happen, and I hoped that it would. _

"_I am pleased to announce the engagement of my daughter to François, King of France!"_

_Cheers went up from around the ballroom and men entered, carrying trays that held glasses of celebratory wine. Meanwhile, the man that I was supposed to marry came forward. He was a tall man with black hair covered by a hat and a goatee that I found rather disgusting. His eyes were black and beady, and the way that he was looking at me sent chills down my spine. I wanted to run a way and never be found, but I knew my fate. And, as the Princess of England, I had to face that fate, no matter how gruesome it may be. _

_I curtsied, as was expected of me, and he took my hand to kiss it. We exchanged a few words, and then he asked me to dance. And I simply had no choice but to accept, so I did. He led me out onto the dance floor and we began to dance to a slow song that the musicians were playing. But our steps felt weird, even though it was a familiar dance that we had both practiced before. It just felt like we were out of synch. But, the dance ended quickly, and he kissed my hand one more time before excusing himself to go and talk business with my father._

_No sooner had he disappeared through the crowd than I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw a handsome man standing there, wearing the clothes of a wealthy youth. His hair was blonde, but that's about all of him that I could see. For some reason, his face appeared blurry and I couldn't get a good glimpse of it. Nonetheless, I knew that he was handsome, and I couldn't help but blush. _

"_Would you care to dance?" he asked me, holding out a hand. _

_And I wanted to. I had never wanted to dance with anyone so badly in all my life. So, I curtsied. "I would love to." _

_I took his hand and he pulled me closer to him as we began to dance. Right from the start, we were perfect. Our steps were together, like we had been dancing together ever since we were children. _

"_Congratulations on your engagement," he said._

_I felt my smile fade, but I knew that I needed to be polite. "Thank you very much."_

"_You don't seem too happy about it," he acknowledged._

_I looked around for listening ears before I answered in a low voice. "I suppose I am not, sir."_

"_I know what it is like," he said._

"_You know what _what_ is like?" I asked, curious._

"_Being engaged to someone that you do not know," he answered. "I was, at one time."_

"_What happened?"_

"_She was taken by the fever that swept the land not too long ago."_

_I remembered that fever. It had taken many of the ladies of the castle and even my distant cousin, Mary, whom I had used to write letters to in order to practice my Spanish, for she lived in the Spanish colonies. I had been so sad to hear about her death. "I am so sorry, sir."_

"_You have nothing to be sorry for, Princess," he answered. "And, to be quite honest, though it may sound cruel, I never shed a tear. For her dying meant my happiness."_

"_I understand." And I did. After all, if François were to die, I didn't think that I would be too upset by it. _

"_Pray tell," I said softly. "What is your name?"_

"_Joseph, Princess," he answered me. "My name is Joseph."_

_Joseph. I liked the sound of his name. It wasn't too common – though it wasn't entirely unheard of, either. _

_The song ended and we stopped dancing, even though I could have danced with him all night. He stepped away from me. "Thank you, Princess, for the lovely dance."_

"_You as well," I said softly._

"_And," he said. "I would be honored if you would meet me in the gardens, later this evening, after your engagement party has ended."_

_I felt a rush of pleasure at his words. "I shall see you then."_

_He nodded and walked away, just as my father came up to talk to me. For the rest of the night, I danced with the people that I was expected to dance with and talked to the people that I was expected to talk to. I accepted congratulations as if I were actually happy about my engagement and I appeared poised, as every woman should be._

_What I wanted, though, was for the party to end. He was all I could think about, even though I was supposed to be engaged. After all, I'd heard of women who were engaged even though they were in love with someone else. Marriages weren't about love; they were about conquests for power. _

_After a while, people began to leave and I headed up to my room, where ladies were waiting with a hot bath for me. I was impatient, but finally I got through the bath and into a nightgown. The ladies bade me goodnight and moved off to their own chambers to prepare for bed. _

_That's when I got out of my bed and quickly changed into a simple dress that I used for riding lessons. I pulled my hair up and then quietly snuck out of my room, heading for the gardens._

_Even though the party had ended, people still milled about the castle, and I occasionally had to duck into rooms to avoid being seen by anyone. It was slow going, but I finally made it out the doors, merely a hundred yards away from the gardens. Quickly, I moved that direction and spotted Joseph over by the rose bushes. He spotted me, too, and waved me over. _

"_Hello," he said with a smile. His face was no longer blurry, but I couldn't see it very well because it was dark, the only light coming from the moon, the stars, and a candle that shone in a window far above us. _

"_Hello," I replied. "Sorry that it took me so long."_

"_I haven't been waiting long," he said, waving my apology away. "I just go there, in fact."_

"_Good."_

"_Would you care to take a walk?" he asked, offering me his arm._

_I took his proffered arm and we began to stroll casually, just like old friends would. Which, I supposed, I wouldn't know. I'd never had any friends because there weren't any other children in the castle. Mary had come to visit a few times, but that had been so long ago that I couldn't even really remember what we had done together. Played with dolls, I expected. Or had tea and talked or read books. Or maybe played chess; I remembered that she had liked to play chess._

"_It's a nice night," Joseph said. "Very pretty."_

_I nodded. "My tutor likes for me to study Astronomy. That, right there," I pointed at a constellation. "Is referred to as Orion's Belt."_

"_That's the North Star," Joseph said, pointing to the brightest star in the sky. "And that's about all the astronomy that I know."_

_I smiled. "Can't you tell the time by looking at the night sky?"_

_He shook his head. "My father can, though. He's a businessman, and he often travels at night."_

"_Is he gone much?"_

_Joseph nodded. "All of the time."_

"_Just you and your mother?"_

"_Not anymore," he said with a far away look in his eyes. "She died when the fever came. Now, she, I did shed tears for."_

"_I'm so sorry," I said softly. "That must have been terrible."_

"_It was," he agreed. "But she was strong."_

_We stopped walking and faced each other. He smiled at me. "So, princess, what is your story?"_

"_I don't have one," I answered softly. "I'm just the Princess that is engaged to the King of France."_

"_Would your father call off the engagement if you talked to him?"_

_I shook my head. "The marriage will give England all kinds of power. That's all that my father wants."_

"_I'm sorry to hear that."_

"_It's not your place to apologize," I replied. "It's what I'm expected to do."_

"_Then maybe you should do something else."_

"_Like what?" I questioned._

_He shrugged. "You could run away."_

"_To where?"_

"_Anywhere," he answered._

_And I could truly see it. I could see myself riding a horse out of the castle. I could see myself escaping from the life that had imprisoned me. I wouldn't have to marry the king. I could be whoever I wanted to be…_

"_I can't," I finally whispered. "I just can't do that."_

"_Why not?" he asked. "I could help you escape, if you'd like."_

"_You would do that for me?"_

_He smiled. "Of course I would do that for you. Don't you know who I am?"_

_But I didn't; I still couldn't see his face. "No," I answered him. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."_

"_I'm the one that was made for you," he whispered. "The one that you're meant to be with."_

_His face was becoming clearer, but I couldn't focus on that. Instead, I focused on the sensations that occurred when his lips touched mine. And then, when he pulled away, I could see his face._

I awoke with a start, sweating. That was the strangest dream that I'd had in…oh…maybe forever. And even weirder was the fact that the face of the man had been Joe's face.

Joseph.

Joe.

"It was just a dream," I whispered to myself. "It was just a dream."


	11. To Sing

**To Sing**

_Joe_

Even though I had apologized, I still felt bad. My dreams had been troubled, mostly about Cayden getting shot and me not being able to do anything for her. So, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I shaved and then took a quick shower, knowing that I probably wasn't going to be working out today. I just wasn't feeling it.

After my shower, I went out into the kitchen to get myself some breakfast. I picked a muffin to eat, and while it was heating, I decided to go upstairs to make sure that Cayden was okay. She hadn't been crying last night or anything, but I still didn't want to take any chances. If she harbored any ill feelings towards me, it was best to get them handled immediately instead of letting them fester.

I knocked on her door and waited for her to respond. But, after a few moments, she hadn't. "Cayden?" I called as I knocked again. Once again, there was no answer. So, I tried the handle. The door opened immediately and I peeked inside. Cayden's bed was neatly made and there were no signs of a struggle, not that I had expected there to be. She had probably just gone for a run.

I went back down to the kitchen and ate my muffin before deciding to go and try to catch up with her. I still felt really bad about the things that I had said, even though she had accepted my apology. So, I went into my room, pulled on tennis shoes, and took off. It didn't take a genius to follow her trail, and I jogged along, trying to figure out what I was going to say to her. It would be even worse if she appeared upset… But that's part of the reason that I had yelled, right? The fact that she never showed any emotion and that she didn't talk to me? But, I had thought that everything was okay after I had apologized. She had even given me a small smile when she'd been shaking my hand. Had that just been pretend?

The air was warmer than it had been the day before, but it was still a bit too cold for my taste. I preferred the summer weather. But, it was probably about fifty-five degrees, and I didn't think that was too bad. I wondered if Cayden had run farther than normal, just because it was a nice day. Or, she could have just gone for a stroll. Or maybe she was scouting the area with a map. Or maybe…

And that's when I heard it. The bird. But it was weird because the bird was singing in English. And I'm no bird expert or anything (in fact, I had hated every science that had to deal with animals) but I was pretty sure that birds couldn't speak English. But, the voice was so pretty that I wanted to imagine it as a bird. It was high and clear, cutting through the air and spreading this warm feeling…

I walked slower and softer, so that I wouldn't startle Cayden. Because I knew that it had to be her singing. No one else was around to sing because no one would go wandering hundreds of miles into the woods just to sing.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year," Cayden sang and I finally caught a glimpse of her. She was in a little clearing, sitting at the base of a tree, wearing jeans and a pink sweater, her hair half up and half down, wavy. She didn't seem to see or hear me; she was busy singing and tearing at a stick. "With the kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer. It's the most wonderful time of the year."

Christmas time actually was coming up and even though I normally didn't like Christmas (I didn't exactly have anyone to celebrate it with) Cayden made it seem like it would be fun.

"It's the happ- happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. It's the happ- happiest season of all."

I crept a little bit closer, but I was still hidden. I just wanted to listen to her beautiful voice all day.

"There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and caroling out in the snow. There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago. It's the most wonderful time of the year."

I couldn't remember the last time that I had celebrated Christmas. Probably a long time ago, with my family, before I had gone to Blackthorne. I could vaguely remember snowball fights and the popcorn string that we'd wrapped around the big tree in our living room. I remembered toys that I couldn't put a name to and licking candy canes while watching _Frosty the Snowman_ and _Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer_. And those memories hurt me a little bit; they reminded me how much I was really missing.

"There'll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. It's the most wonderful time of the year."

Why was she able to make me feel that I actually wanted to be part of something like that again? I wanted to share laughs and the kind of togetherness that comes during the holidays. I wanted to feel the "Christmas cheer" that I hadn't felt in over a decade.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year," she continued to sing, still breaking the stick into little pieces. There'll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. It's the most wonderful time. It's the most wonderful time. It's the most wonderful time…" She brought her voice up to a beautiful soprano note. "…of the year…" She drug the final note out before ending it. And I really didn't want the song to end. I could have listened to her sing that song a million times. It made me feel good inside.

_Cayden_

I had no idea why I felt the sudden need to sing Christmas songs. The last time that I had participated in a real Christmas was five years earlier, when I was nineteen. I could still remember that, actually. How my parents had come and we'd had ham and stuffing and cranberry sauce and all of the holiday foods that you could imagine. I had decorated the tree myself and I could still remember the presents that I had gotten: a scarf and a cookbook for Mom and two new sweaters for Dad. And they had loved them. Of course, there had been bad parts to that holiday as well…Parts that I had tried so hard to forget but that seemed to be branded into my mind, never to be removed. Why was it you could forget things that you tried so hard to keep in your mind, but you couldn't forget the things that you tried with all your heart to forget? It didn't seem quite fair to me.

I sighed and leaned back against the tree that I was sitting by. The stick that I had been methodically tearing apart had pretty much gone, so I threw the remainders away and clapped my hands together to rid them of bark.

And then, a song popped into my head, one that would be painful for me to sing. One that would bring back so many melancholy memories that I was almost sure that I would cry. But one that I _had_ to sing.

"I really can't stay," I began to sing, imagining the accompanying part in my head. _But baby, it's cold outside._ "I've got to go 'way." _But baby, it's cold outside._ Sure enough, I felt tears sting at my eyes. But, I was determined not to let them fall, no matter what memories popped up in my mind. I wasn't going to be weak.

"This evening has been…" _Been hopin' that you'd drop in._ "So very nice."

But while I was imagining the part in my head, it actually happened. "I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." My head snapped up and I saw Joe standing there, ten yards away, between two trees. How had I not heard him approach? Was I really that lost in my singing? I guess it really _had_ been a while since I sang.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. After a few seconds, he smiled at me. "Please, don't stop."

So, I went on. "My mother will start to worry."

He picked it up, tuning his voice so that we matched perfectly. He really had a good voice, surprisingly. "Beautiful, what's your hurry?"

"And father will be pacing the floor."

"Listen to the fireplace roar."

"So really I'd better scurry."

"Beautiful, please don't hurry."

The memories weren't coming. For some reason, they were on hold. It was just me and Joe, singing a song together in perfect harmony. "Well maybe just a half a drink more."

"Put some records on while I pour."

"The neighbors might think…"

"Baby, it's bad out there."

"Say, what's in this drink?"

"No cabs to be had out there."

A wind breezed by, ruffling my hair. But I really couldn't feel it. For the first time in a long time, I was lost in a song. And it felt really good. Kind of like flying. "I wish I knew how."

"Your eyes are like starlight now."

"To break the spell."

"I'll take your hat; your hair looks swell."

"I ought to say 'no, no, no, sir'."

"Mind if I move in closer?" As he sang that, he took a step closer and I wondered if he had done it subconsciously, or had thought that it went along with the lyrics. Whatever it was, I didn't mind.

'At least I'm gonna say that I tried."

"What's the sense of hurtin' my pride?"

"I really can't stay."

"Baby don't hold out."

"Aw, but it's cold outside!" As I sang that, he sang, "Baby, it's cold outside!"

"I simply must go."

"But baby it's cold outside."

"The answer is no."

"But baby it's cold outside."

"This welcome has been…"

"How lucky that you dropped in."

"…so nice and warm."

"Look out the window at that storm."

"My sister will be suspicious."

"Gosh, your lips look delicious."

"My brother will be there at the door." Still, no memories came.

"Waves upon a tropical shore."

"My maiden aunt's mind is vicious."

"Oh, your lips are delicious."

"Well, maybe just a cigarette more."

"Never such a blizzard before."

"I've got to get home."

"But baby you'll freeze out there."

"Say, lend me a coat."

"It's up to your knees out there."

I really almost smiled while I was singing with him. "You've really been grand."

"I thrill when you touch my hand."

"But don't you see?"

"How can you do this thing to me?"

"There's bound to be talk tomorrow."

"Think of my lifelong sorrow."

"At least there will be plenty implied."

"If you caught pneumonia and died."

"I really can't stay."

"Get over that old doubt."

"Aw, but it's cold outside," I sang as he sang, "Oh, baby it's cold outside."

We ended at exactly the same time and it was quiet for a few minutes while we just stared at each other, both of us a little unsure as to what had just happened. And then, he smiled. "You have a beautiful voice."

I felt myself blush. "You're not so bad, yourself."

He shrugged. "Thanks."

And, still, the memories didn't come. And I was grateful. I didn't really want to have to deal with them. "Did you come out here to find me?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He nodded. "I wanted to make sure that you're not still mad about yesterday."

I shook my head. "It's all water under the bridge."

"Great," he said. "How 'bout some martial arts practice?"

I took his hand so that he could help me up.


	12. To Watch

**To Watch**

_Joe_

It was our first day to get to do some actual surveillance. We'd found out by a CIA message that Dominic's flight plans were delayed; he wasn't going to be coming until after Christmas. But, Mr. Irving had "suggested" that we check out his warehouses and try to see what the hours for his crew were. We were supposed to get an idea of the guard rotations and the breaks and that sort of thing. And maybe try to find a good angle for Cayden to shoot from. Try to find a window that Dominic would pass by or something.

"Where would you prefer to shoot from?" I asked her that morning as we ate oatmeal together.

She shrugged and waited until she'd swallowed her mouthful before she said, "Anywhere is fine with me. I think my thing will be wind."

"So the location might have to change?"

She nodded her head as she stirred the liquidy oatmeal around in her bowl. Another fact that I had learned about her (besides the fact that she could sing like no other): She liked her oatmeal to be soupy. "I mean, it will all depend on where Dominic will be, anyway. Do we have a layout of the building?"

"Yes," I replied. "But they think that it's been modified since then and no one has been able to get their hands on a newer blueprint. So we'll just have to look for windows."

"Or maybe not," she mused. "If the walls are thin enough, I can use a body heat detector and fire a bullet through the wall."

"There are body heat detectors that you can attach to a gun?" I asked, surprised.

She smiled and nodded. "It's like a scope, except it shows body heat."

"But if there are multiple people in the room, how would you be able to tell which one is Dominic?"

She got this strange look on her face, as if she didn't want to say what came out of her mouth next. "Then I would just have to shoot them all."

I nodded slowly and wondered for the first time if something inside of her didn't like killing people. I mean, she was good at it, but that didn't mean that it had to be her favorite thing in the whole world. Maybe she secretly hated killing people but didn't know what else to do with her life. "Well, we'll just have to hope that Dominic likes to look out of his windows often."

She gave a small smile and tipped the bowl up to her mouth to drink the rest of her breakfast. Then, she carried her bowl to the sink and I finished the rest of my oatmeal before moving to do the same. "We'd better get dressed so that we can get going."

She nodded and moved for the stairs. In my own room, I shaved quickly and then traded my pajama pants for jeans and my T-shirt for a white long sleeved shirt and a blue sweater vest that probably would have looked dorky on anyone else, but that I thought I could kind of pull off. And, besides, I knew that men in this part of the world wore sweater vests regularly. And the whole point was to fit in.

Cayden wasn't down yet when I went back into the kitchen, so I got myself a glass of water and drank it slowly, thinking about everything that we had to get done today (which really wasn't all that much). We had to map the building the best that we could from an outside view and we had to survey the area for escape routes and Cayden had to test all kinds of different places to see where she would prefer to shoot from. That was going to be the hard part, I knew, because she had no idea of the subject's pattern and what time he would be where and what the weather would be like. But, it's not like we had to do the killing on a certain day. We had a span with which to act and Cayden would be able to pick the day with the best weather for her shooting.

I heard her coming down the stairs and I put the glass away, grabbing the car keys from a hook. She entered the kitchen and when I turned and saw her, I tried to figure out why my heart began to beat so much faster. Her hair was half up half down, straightened, and she wore jeans and a green sweater with a black North Face jacket over it. And then I realized that she was wearing makeup to accent her blue eyes, which seemed to make them shine like stars.

She was absolutely beautiful.

I cleared my throat. "I figure one of us can drive there and the other can drive back."

She nodded. "Sounds fair. Who is driving first?"

"I will, if you want me to."

She nodded and we headed for the door.

The car turned out to be some foreign model that I had never driven before, but I didn't figure it would be too big of a problem. The problem was going to be maneuvering through all of the trees until we could reach a road. But, there was a path just big enough for the car that was kind of hidden, so we made it out without too much trouble.

"Do you mind if I turn on music?" I asked after a few moments of silence on an actual road.

Cayden shook her head, so I reached for the radio. The first and second stations were just static, so I moved on to the third. It was a symphony playing a song that I had heard before, but couldn't quite place. And then I realized that it was a song by Beethoven, but I couldn't remember the name.

Cayden hummed along.

Another fact: She liked (or at least knew) Beethoven's compositions.

_Cayden_

We parked a mile and a half from the main warehouse, the headquarters. There was no way that we were going to park any closer and risk the car being caught on any cameras that Dominic might have installed on the outside of his warehouses. After all, we had read right there in his file that Dominic was a very careful man. You couldn't become the world's leading crime boss unless you were very clever and extremely careful. Oh, and evil; don't forget evil. And inhumane and cruel and mean; just plain mean. I guess it's not hard to tell how I feel about people like that, huh?

I guess that's part of the reason that I got into this business in the first place. Because I wanted to be on the good side of things. When I was younger, I had loved watching _Batman_ and _Superman_ because they always won; good always triumphed over evil. And even though that wasn't always the case in the real world, I wanted to be part of the good that would win. I wanted to be like Superman and Batman in my own way. I wanted to feel like I was helping the world, in however small a way.

Thinking about that made me wonder how Joe had gotten into the whole CIA thing. I knew that he had gone to a school that trained him for that, but surely he could have gone to college and became something else if he didn't like it? Had he watched _Batman_ and _Superman_ when he was a little kid? Did he feel like he was saving the world when he was on missions? Or did he just do it because it's what he was used to? I really had no idea.

But I kind of wanted to know, as strange as it sounds. I hadn't wanted to connect with someone in a very long time. But, for some reason that I hadn't even begun to fathom myself, I kind of wanted a connection with Joe. A friendship, maybe. I wanted to know the simple things about him, aside from the things I already knew like how much butter he put on his muffin and the fact that he shaved every morning and how he liked to make his oatmeal. I wanted to know more, and this sudden craving for knowledge about someone kind of scared me. It was just weird for me. Especially after everything that had happened last time…

We started with the layout of the building. We added on to the original blueprints where we saw that we needed to and tried to look through windows the best we could with binoculars. We both strolled by the front of the warehouse, each time making sure that we were well hidden in a crowd of people so that the cameras wouldn't be able to catch our faces. Finally, Joe looked over the final blueprint one more time. "It looks good," he pronounced. "Come on; let's go in here."

We went into the coffee shop that he had suggested and we both bought coffee, him a latte and me a mocha. Then, we sat down at a table and Joe spoke first. "I'll need to make a quick copy of this so that we can send it back to headquarters."

I nodded. "I'm still going to need to scout rooftops. Do you need me here for the copying?"

He shook his head. "You can go if you want. Are you gonna be okay by yourself?"

I took a long drink of my mocha. "You're forgetting, I normally don't have a partner on my missions. I'm used to scouting alone."

He nodded and smiled. "Then go for it. I'll catch up with you after I've copied this and gone to the post office to mail it."

I nodded and took another long drink before tossing the cup in the trash can and heading out the door. Finding the right place to shoot from was slow going. Especially in a crowded area. And getting to some of the rooftops was a mess. And sometimes, I got frustrated because I would go through the trouble of getting to a rooftop, only to find that it wasn't the place that I wanted to shoot from.

Finally, though, I was able to find the perfect place to shoot from. The shot would go right through the window of the room that Joe and I had been pretty confident had to be Dominic's office. And, surely, Dominic would spend time in his office. Smiling, I got down from the rooftop and found my way back to the street.

"Hey," Joe said as he fell into step beside me. We both turned and headed for the car. "Did you find a place to shoot from?"

"Yeah; I did." I briefly described where it was and where the shot would go, and he nodded. "Sounds perfect."

"Should be," I agreed.

We approached the car and he tossed me the keys, making me remember that it was my turn to drive. Luckily, though, I had driven a car just like the model we had not too long ago, and I remembered how it worked.

As we drove, Joe said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You mean, besides the one that you just asked me?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

I shrugged and secretly hoped that it wouldn't be a question that I couldn't answer. I didn't want to put up any more walls between us. "Sure; go for it." _Please don't be too personal. Please don't be too personal._

He took a breath. "Do you like classical music?"

"What?" I glanced over at him, surprised at his question.

"Do you like classical music?" he repeated. "You seemed familiar with that Beethoven song earlier."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah; I love classical music, actually. It relaxes me when I need to wind down after a mission."

"Okay," he said simply and we were quiet for the rest of the drive.

(The songs from the last chapter were "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" and "Baby, It's Cold Outside") 


	13. To Wait

**To Wait**

_Joe_

There was really nothing else that we were able to do. We went to take another quick look around the warehouse and then we went into the coffee shop where I got a latte and she got a caramel mocha. Then, we went to sit at a small table in the corner, away from listening ears. I quickly checked the table for bugs (you can never be too careful) and she looked around for anyone that she thought might be a spy. Finally, when we both came out clear, we settled into chairs to have a conversation.

"There's nothing else to do right now," I said.

She nodded her agreement. "We can't do anything else until Dominic comes, and that won't be until after Christmas."

I nodded and took a drink of my steamy vanilla latte, something that I hadn't had in quite a while. Too long, actually. And it tasted just as good as I remembered it. "I wonder why he's hesitating to come," I mused. The CIA had no idea why he wasn't coming; they weren't stupid and they didn't have men trailing him. They'd done that before and Dominic had found out about it and killed them. All that the CIA knew was that he had cancelled the flight that he was going to take and had booked a different one for sometime following Christmas. But they had no idea why, even though they had said that they were looking into it. And I honestly didn't think that Dominic was going to be so stupid as to tell the airlines "Yeah, I'm going to have to take a later flight because there's a body that I need to hide" or "I'm gonna need a different flight; I haven't quite pulled off my embezzlement scheme yet".

"I don't know," she said. "But the longer that we have to prepare, the better."

I nodded and said, "Even though there's not really anything else that we can do."

"We'll just have to wait," she said before taking a long drink of her coffee.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Waiting. Every operative's favorite action."

She gave me one of her little half smiles that always left me wondering what her _real_ smile looked like. The one that she gave when she was really, truly happy. I imagined it to be warm and beautiful, the kind of thing that you couldn't take your eyes off of. "Hey, now, there's a whole class at Quantico that snipers have to take, and it deals with waiting."

"How's that work?" I asked, just wanting to keep her talking. She had been doing a lot better at communicating with me and I found that I liked hearing her talk. Normally, I couldn't wait for women to shut up, but it wasn't like that with Cayden. With her, I couldn't wait for more conversation.

She traced her finger around the lip of her cup. "They put you in an observation room where they can see you but you can't see them. Then, they assign you a position – kneeling, standing, sitting, or lying on your stomach – and you have to stay there until they tell you that you cans top. The less moving, the better you score."

I winced. "That just sounds like cruel and unusual punishment."

She shrugged. "I was lucky; I got to lie flat on my stomach. It wasn't too bad."

"How long did you have to stay there?"

"Eleven hours."

"What?" I said, surprised. Even _I_ would have found that exercise pointless.

"I would have had to stay longer," she said, "but the director of the exercise was hungry and wanted to leave."

"I could never do that."

She shrugged. "Sometimes I have to wait just that long for a target, especially the ones that I only have a day to kill. Then, I don't have time to find out what their patters are; I just have to go where they tell me to go and wait."

"I never thought that being a sniper was that hard," I admitted. "I thought that someone did all the work for you and you just had to pull the trigger."

She gave me another half smile. "I _wish_ that someone would do all the work for me. It's actually a lot harder than most people think, because we can't shoot from just anywhere. And we have to get away with the gun and being a sniper is just hard anyway. You have all kinds of factors; wind, position, height, humidity…"

I nodded slowly. "No wonder good snipers are in such high demand."

"They tried to make a machine," she said softly. "And I only know this because they wanted my opinion, so you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"Anyway," she said. "It's a machine that does a sniper's job. It's supposed to be able to factor in everything that a sniper has to. And it will shoot the target for you. One shot, one kill. Every time. I told them that it wasn't going to work."

"Did it?" I asked.

She looked up at me and gave me another half smile. "No, of course not. There are just some things that can't be done by a machine."

"I agree," I said.

She nodded slowly, finished off her mocha, and then tossed the cup into the trash. "We should probably get going. I don't want to be driving through all of those trees in the dark."

"I agree," I said and threw away my cup, too. We left the coffee shop and headed for the car, doing a couple of moves just in case we were being tailed, even though I never picked up on anything. Finally, we reached the car and I tossed her the keys so that she could drive. And, I hated to admit, she was a better driver than I was. By far. It seemed that she was used to the foreign model that we had.

She started the car up and music came on. "Beethoven," I said.

She shook her head as she twisted in her seat to look behind her as she backed up. "Bach."

"Bach," I repeated slowly, listening to the classical music pouring into the car.

_Cayden_

We had just gotten on the road that would take us back to the house when Joe changed the station and turned the radio up. "Do you know this song?"

It was _Silent Night_ in Gaelic. "Yes; it's _Silent Night_. Don't you speak any Gaelic?"

He shook his head. "That may be the one language that I don't know fluently. Can you sing it?"

Normally, I didn't sing at request. And I hadn't sung in years before the other day, when I had been singing those Christmas songs. But something made me begin to sing in Gaelic along with the woman that was singing. "Silent night. Holy night. All is calm; all is bright. Round you virgin mother and child. Holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace."

And then when I started the next verse, Joe sang with me. He sang the song in English and I sang it in Gaelic, but our voices still blended together perfectly and it still sounded beautiful. "Silent night; holy night. Shepherds quake at the sight. Wise men ponder heaven's bright star. Angels singing their hallelujah. Christ the savior is born. Christ the savior is born."

Still we sang together on the last verse. "Silent night; holy night. Son of God, lend thy light. With the host we joyfully sing. Glory, honor, to Jesus, our king. Christ the savior was born. Christ the savior was born."

"It's a pretty song," he said softly when it was over and the radio host was talking. He turned the volume down.

"Yeah," I said as I steered the car. "It is."

"How many languages can you speak?"

"The list goes on and on," I replied.

"How did you learn?" he asked. "I mean, if you didn't go to a school like mine?"

"I learned a few at Quantico."

"Okay," he chuckled, though I didn't know why. "Let's do this: How did you learn Gaelic?"

"My mother was Gaelic," I said, the first really personal thing that I had told him.

"She was?" he asked softly, seeming to know that he was now on not-so-solid ground.

I nodded and I don't know why, but I began to talk. "My first word was in Gaelic, really. I learned English and Gaelic at the same time. Took me a while to get rid of the accent, actually. Anyway, every Christmas, she would sing the Christmas songs in Gaelic. Actually, she sang in Gaelic year round. She had a really beautiful voice."

"One that she must have passed on to you," he complimented.

"Thanks," I said softly. "That's nice of you to say."

He turned up the radio again. This time, it was _Joy to the World_ and he didn't even have to ask me to sing along. "Joy to the world; the Lord is come. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare Him room. And heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing. And heaven, and heaven and nature sing."

He joined in on the second verse, just like he had done last time. "Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns. Let men, their songs employ. While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, repeat the sounding joy. Repeat the sounding joy. Repeat, repeat the sounding joy."

"No more let sins and sorrows grow. Nor thorns infest the ground. He comes to make His blessings flow. Far as the curse is found; far as the curse is found. Far as, far as the curse is found."

"He rules the world with truth and grace. And makes the nations prove. The glories of His righteousness and wonders of his love. And wonders of his love. And wonders, and wonders of His love."

The song ended just as I pulled the car up to its parking spot and shut it off. "I'm surprised you know that version of the song," I told him as we unbuckled our seatbelts and got out of the car.

He shrugged and we headed for the house. "I grew up in a church. That was the version we sang."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "You went to church growing up?"

He blushed a little bit. "I've never really told anyone that before. It just came out. I figured that if you talked about your mother, I shouldn't have a problem talking about going to church."

"What kind of church was it?" I asked. I was going to guess Catholic.

"Church of Christ. We sing a lot; a cappella, no instruments."

"That's why you're such a good singer," I mused.

He shrugged and began walking again. I fell into step with him. "So, if you grew up in the church, why did you stop?"

He paused as if trying to think of how he wanted to phrase his answer. "I guess I just got to the point where I didn't know if there really was a God anymore. I saw things and heard of things at Blackthorne that made me lose my faith."

"That's sad."

"Did you ever go to church?" he asked me as he unlocked the back door.

I shook my head. "Church was never really my scene."

As soon as we were inside, we both split up to check the house for bugs or hidden cameras. It was clear, though, and we met back up in the kitchen. "Clear on my end," he said.

"Mine too," I agreed and then I yawned. "I think it's time for me to go to bed."

He smiled at me. "I think I'll head that way soon, too."

"Night," I told him, raising a hand in a farewell as I headed for the stairs.

"Good night," I heard him say from behind me. "Sleep well."


	14. To Spark

**To Spark**

_Cayden_

I don't know what started it. The idea just sparked in my head and I went with it after I saw dust on one of the bookshelves in one of the extra bedrooms. The house had been cleaned by a CIA team before we had arrived, but they hadn't done heavy duty stuff like dust off the chandelier or scrub the tiles with bleach. That, I decided was going to have to be done by me. But, I really didn't mind. It would give me something to do.

First, though, I had to locate cleaning supplies. So, I went to my room and changed into shorts and my oldest T-shirt, leaving my feet bare. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and even added a headband so that all of the hair would stay out of my face. Then, I headed off in pursuit of cleaning supplies. Turns out, they were all in a corner of the pantry. A broom, a mop and a bucket, a basket of cleaners. Even a vacuum cleaner, though it wasn't one of the newer models.

I started upstairs, in the extra bedroom. I vacuumed first, and then I filled the mop bucket with a mixture of bleach and vinegar and I cleaned the baseboards. Then, I moved on to the bedroom that I was staying in. First, I took off my sheets and took them downstairs to the laundry room, where I got them started in the washing machine. Then, I vacuumed the plush carpet in my room and cleaned the baseboards like I had done in the other room. I moved on to my bathroom before I knew it and had that cleaned in no time. Then, I took the time to vacuum the stairs, which took longer than I had thought that it would.

Next, I moved to put my sheets in the dryer and started a load of my laundry before I wondered if Joe needed clothes washed, too. So, I walked to his bedroom but froze. His door was slightly ajar, though I knew that he was outside running. All that I could see was his bed (unmade, of course) and I wondered if he would mind if I went in. Did finding clothes to wash count as snooping? It didn't as long as I didn't actually snoop, did it?

A hand came onto my shoulder and I let loose a little scream. Whirling around, I saw Joe, his blonde hair and his clothes dark with sweat. He raised an eyebrow, but he didn't appear angry. "What are you doing?"

"I was about to start a load of darks," I said, glad that I wasn't stammering. "I just wondered if you needed some clothes washed, too. But I didn't know if it was okay to go into your room…"

He shrugged and reached over my shoulder to push the door open. "I don't care; you can come into my room whenever you want."

Realizing that he needed me to either go in or get out of his way so that he could enter his room, I stepped inside. He turned on the light when he came in and pointed at a pile of clothes in the corner. "Those are the dirty ones. I was planning to wash them soon."

I nodded and moved to separate the darks from the lights.

"I'll be in the shower," he said and then moved into his bathroom and shut the door behind him.

The water started and I picked up the bundle of dark clothes and carried them into the laundry room, where I put them in the washer with mine and then started it. Then, I moved to vacuum the living room. After I was done with that, I stared up at the chandelier, pondering. I was going to need a ladder to get up there and clean it. I knew that there was one in the helicopter's building, but I decided to save that for later. Instead, I filled the mop bucket with fresh water and put in some bleach and vinegar to clean the baseboards.

As I cleaned them, I hummed the same Gaelic songs that my mother had used to hum while she cleaned. But when my favorite Gaelic song came into my head, I simply had to sing it; humming wouldn't do. So, I scrubbed the baseboards as I sang, trying to be quiet.

When I finished the song and stood up to go and dump the dirty water, I found Joe standing in the entrance to the living room, watching me. I froze.

"That was a pretty song," he said softly. "Does it translate into English well?"

"It's hard," I admitted as I moved for the kitchen. "But the song is about a girl that ran away with a guy that she thought she was in love with."

"She wasn't really in love with him?" he asked, following me.

"No," I dumped the water into the sink and watched it swirl down the drain. "As it turns out, she came to hate him. He drank and he gambled and he cheated."

"So what did she do?"

I set the bucket aside on the counter and avoided looking at him. "She went back home to her parents. And she was warmly welcomed home."

"There's a story like that in the Bible," he said conversationally. "The story of the prodigal son."

I walked into the living room with him following. "The son took his inheritance money and left. But he wasted it all away and he came back home to his father, who welcomed him back with open arms. Made the other son quite angry."

"I'll bet," I muttered. "Is it okay if I vacuum and clean your room?"

He nodded. "I told you, you can go in my room whenever you want."

I fetched the vacuum cleaner and moved towards his room.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked me. "I feel bad, you doing everything and me standing here like an idiot."

I paused and motioned towards the chandelier. "You can go get that ladder from the helicopter's building and clean the chandelier with a wet rag. Might take a while. I think I can see the dust from here."

He smiled. "Gotcha."

_Joe_

I found the ladder in the helicopter's building pretty easily and moved to bring it into the house. When I had it positioned under the chandelier, I moved into the kitchen to fill the mop bucket with hot water and then grabbed a cleaning rag before moving back into the living room.

Cayden had been right; the chandelier was extremely dusty and took forever to clean. In fact, by the time that I had finished, Cayden was done cleaning both my room and my bathroom. When she came out and saw the chandelier, she gave one of her half smiles. (In fact, I wondered if she ever gave a real smile at all). "That looks a ton better. It seems to sparkle."

I dropped the rag in the water and stepped off of the ladder. I backed up a ways and saw that she was right. The chandelier looked so much prettier now that it was clean.

Cayden moved to put my sheets in the washer and put the clothes in the dryer. I offered to help her put the sheets back on her bed, so we went upstairs together. "The house looks a lot better," I complimented. "I thought that the CIA cleaned it, but they did nothing compared to what you did."

She shrugged and tucked the edge of the sheets under the mattress. "I think that they were mainly focused on cleaning out bugs or hidden cameras."

"I think you're right about that," I said as we both moved to put the comforter on top of the sheets. "But it does look much better."

"I agree."

"What gave you the idea?" I asked as we simultaneously smoothed out wrinkles.

She shrugged. "Just a sort of spark of inspiration."

We headed back downstairs and I took the ladder back outside. When I came in, I saw her getting started on dinner. "Anything I can do?"

She pointed to a stack of carrots. "We're having vegetable beef stew. You can chop up those carrots. The cutting board is in that drawer."

I found the cutting board and a knife and expertly cut up the carrots. Then, she had me cut up green beans into smaller pieces. I cooked the beef in a pan while she heated up the water in a pot.

It was mostly silent except for Cayden's occasional soft orders or the sound of chopping or of the beef sizzling. Finally, we added all of the ingredients together in that big pot and Cayden put the lid on. "Now, we wait."

"How 'bout a game of chess?" I suggested. "While we wait."

She agreed and I went to go get the chessboard that could be found in the extra room upstairs.

"You can go first," she told me.

"But you're black," I said, confused.

"Which makes you virtuous white."

I shrugged and made my move. "So, you've played chess before?"

"I was the president of the chess club in high school," she said as she moved a pawn.

"Really?" I asked as I moved another of my pawns.

"No," she replied and countered my move.

I chuckled. "So what _did _you do in high school?"

"Learned," she said softly, looking at the chessboard and not at me. I got this sense that talking about her high school days bothered her.

"So, you didn't attend college?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nope; didn't want to."

"What'd you get on your ACT?"

"A perfect score."

I paused in the act of moving a knight. "You got a perfect score on your ACT?"

"And the SAT," she said as if it weren't a big deal. "And I wouldn't put the knight there; you're trapping yourself."

I did a quick analysis of the board and saw that she was right. I moved the piece back. "So, did Harvard send you letters?"

"Every Ivy League school did."

"But you didn't want to go?" I asked as I made a smarter move.

She countered it immediately, as if she had been expecting me to make that move. "No. What about you? Any college education?"

I shook my head. "Blackthorne was like a college education. We learned PhD level everything and stuff like that."

She nodded slowly. "My private school was kind of like that. A school for geniuses."

"Was it a boarding school?"

"Yes," she answered as she got up and headed for the stove so that she could stir the stew a few times.

"I'll bet that was expensive."

"I had a scholarship," she said as she sank back into her chair and countered the move that I had made while she was gone.

Something was there, I knew it. Something had happened at her high school and it had changed her entire life. But she wasn't volunteering any information and I wasn't sure that I should push anything. So, I made a move on the board and said, "So, now that the house is clean, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

She made a move and shrugged. "I've got nothing. I guess just a lot of lounging around."

I made a move and realized that the game was going to end pretty soon. "There are plenty of movies. We could watch one together, if you want."

She nodded slowly and made her move. "Yeah, I guess we could do that."

"Or we could go into town if you want."

"I think I'd rather stay in."

"Me too," I admitted as I moved my bishop, certain that I had her.

But, she moved a piece and looked up at me, something glinting in her gorgeously blue eyes. "Checkmate." And then, the glint disappeared and she said, "Stew's probably done."

"That's the first time that anyone's ever beaten me at chess," I told her as I moved to grab some stew.

"You must not have played very smart people then."

I chuckled, not caring that she had been implying that I sucked at chess.


	15. To Cook

**To Cook**

_Joe_

The next morning, when I woke up, I was smiling. I wondered why that was, but I figured that it had just been a pleasant dream. So, I took a shower and then shaved until my face was smooth once more. Then, I pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, deciding that I could always pull on a jacket if it got too cold for me.

When I entered into the kitchen, I saw Cayden, already up and wearing jeans and a simple blue shirt, looking into a pan that sat on the stove. I moved closer, curious. She turned. "Morning."

"Hey," I said. "Whatcha making?"

"Cinnamon rolls," she answered. "Wanna help?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

She pointed to a container of white powder that looked like flour. "Eight cups of flour into that pot, then."

I nodded and found the measuring cup and began pouring flour into the brownish-yellow liquid that was in the stainless steel pot.

"Stir that," she said. "And then set the lid on it and set the timer for an hour."

"An hour?"

She nodded and gave me a half smile. "Yeah, it takes a while. I've already had to let the original liquid sit for an hour."

"This better be worth it," I muttered as I finished pouring in the flour and began to stir. When I was through stirring, I moved into the living room, where Cayden was folding towels and washrags.

She finished and pointed to a stack of two towels and several washrags. "Those are yours."

I nodded and took them to my bathroom to put away. Cayden came back from putting towels away in her own bathroom and said, "What do you want to do while we wait?"

"I want a rematch," I said. "I'm totally insulted by your comment last night."

She gave me a half smile and gestured. "Lead the way, then."

Well, she beat me…again. And I had been super careful this time and everything. "Rematch," I instantly demanded.

She had checked the timer and shrugged. "Okay; we still have twenty minutes."

"So, I'm starting to think that you really _were_ the chess club president," I said as I moved.

She shook her head. "I wasn't; I promise."

"So what were you?" I asked. "Yearbook editor? Journalist for the school paper? Class president?"

I had only been being curious, but I saw the way that the question bothered her by the way that she shifted in her seat. And I knew that she wasn't going to give me the answer that I had been looking for. "I was a student."

I decided to let the subject change. "And a pretty good one. Did you have a perfect GPA?"

"Yes," she answered. "For every semester except for the last semester of my senior year."

She was such a perfectionist that that news surprised me. "Seriously? What happened?"

She shook her head in a way that let me know that she wasn't going to answer, not really. "I got a D that semester."

"In a class that you had been acing the previous semester?"

She nodded and made a move. "Yep."

I knew that something had to have happened, but I decided not to press it. I had to let her tell me when she wanted to. When she was ready. "Wow; that really sucks."

She seemed relieved that I wasn't pressing it. "I guess. Checkmate."

I sighed and knocked my pieces over. "Fine; you win."

She got up and said, "I better have the oven set to preheat."

While the remaining time dwindled down, we cleaned up the mess that we had made so far, and then it was time to continue cooking. She uncovered the pot and said, "Add one more cup of flour to that, will you?"

I did.

Then she added a heaping teaspoon of baking powder and a little bit of salt. She stirred the mixture while I watched. Then, she turned to me and pointed to a clean section of the cabinet. "Sprinkle that with flour, will you?"

"The _cabinet_?" I asked, surprised.

"No," she rolled her eyes. "The floor."

I smiled and did as she had asked me to do. Then she took about half of the dough and laid it out in a sort of rough rectangle. "Here," she said, handing me the tool. "Roll it out."

I did as I was instructed and wondered what my friends would think if they could see me baking. Well, I didn't actually have any friends. But the people that knew me; the people that knew me as the guy that they feared and respected. They would probably crack up if they could see me baking. But I really didn't care, as long as I was baking with Cayden.

And that thought kind of scared me.

I hadn't noticed that she had been melting butter in the microwave until she came and poured the butter all over the dough. "Sprinkle a cup of sugar over all of this," she told me before going to do something else.

I did and then she came back with a container of cinnamon, which she then proceeded to sprinkle all over the dough. "Okay," she said as she set the cinnamon down. "We're gonna start back here and roll the dough slowly towards us, okay?"

I nodded and reached to help her. When it was a tube, we pinched the top to seal it. She pointed to seven foil pie pans. "Now we're going to cut off sections and fill those."

"There's no way we're going to be able to eat all of these," I told her.

"Nope," she said as she began to cut. "So we're going to take the rest to the orphanage in town."

"That's really nice," I said softly.

Cayden shrugged. "That's what my mother and I used to do on the holidays."

"It's nice," I repeated and then I moved to begin to help her. When all seven pans were filled, she said, "Okay, those have to rise for about twenty five minutes and then we can bake them."

I nodded and then moved to help her as we began to wipe down the surface and clean everything that we had used up to this point. And I found that I didn't mind one bit of it. I actually _liked_ being in the kitchen with her and helping her. It made me feel like we were normal people, enjoying a normal day.

And in my profession, feeling normal (even for a short amount of time) is a paradise that doesn't come often. But that's how Cayden made me feel.

Normal.

_Cayden_

I was a little surprised that Joe had agreed to help me with the cinnamon rolls. I hadn't really seen him as a cooking kind of guy. But, he was doing surprisingly well. And I found that I enjoyed his company, even though I normally liked the silence. And the fact that I enjoyed his company was a little bit unsettling. But, I tried to push the thoughts and feelings away as Joe and I cleaned the utensils we'd used so far, me washing and him drying.

Finally, I decided that we could put the rolls in the oven.

"Okay," I said as soon as the door was shut to the oven. "Now we can start making the frosting."

"Cream cheese?" he asked curiously.

I shook my head. "Maple. Here, Take that bag of powdered sugar and pour it into that mixing bowl."

"The whole thing?" he asked.

"Yep," I answered as I added two tablespoons of maple flavoring that I had had to leave early this morning to go to town and get. I wondered if he had heard the car or if he had no idea that I'd gone to town.

"Add a half a cup of milk," I told him as I moved to melt one-fourth a cup of butter.

"You know this recipe by heart?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered. Then, I poured the melted butter into the bowl. "Okay, now go over to that coffeepot and pour a fourth of a cup of it in here and I'll get the salt."

When we had both added our ingredients, I asked him to stir it. When it was thick and pourable, I pronounced it perfect. Then, the oven beeped. "Help me get these pans out," I said.

We go the pans out and then he helped me pour the frosting into each of the pans to cover the rolls. "They look so good," he said.

I nodded. "They are, I promise. Come on; we'll cover these pans and take them to the orphanage."

He nodded, helped me cover the pans, and then we carefully loaded them into the car. Then, he drove us into town. We listened to the classical station instead of the Christmas one this time and I was kind of glad. An overdose of memories wouldn't be too good a thing for me.

At the orphanage, the lady thanked us graciously and said that we had made the perfect amount for the number of children that they had. At that comment, Joe had looked over at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Yes, I had happened to drop by the orphanage this morning just to see how many kids they had. But I didn't tell him that.

"You and your husband are so kind," she told me.

Neither of us corrected her, for some reason. Joe said, "We just wanted to spread a little Christmas cheer."

After a little more conversation and after we had declined her invitation to eat with them, we left. As we got into the car, Joe said, "Kind of incredible that there were just enough rolls for every kid, huh?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "That might almost be a miracle."

He chuckled. "That's a really nice thing that you did."

"That _we_ did," I said as I pulled out of the parking lot. "You helped me."

"Barely," he said.

Neither of us made a comment about the lady mistaking us for husband and wife, even though it was kind of on both of our minds.

"Bach," he said, pointing to the radio. "Right?"

"No," I said with a small smile. "That's Tchaikovsky."

He threw up his hands as if he were frustrated. "Whatever. I can't wait to get home and have some cinnamon rolls."

"Me too," I admitted. "It's been a while since I've had them."

"I thought you said that you and your mom make them every year?"

I spoke past the tightness in my throat, hoping that he didn't notice. "I said that we used to."

"Oh," he said and then changed the subject. "In my days with my parents, we always had those cinnamon rolls that come prepared. All you have to do is put them in the pan and bake them."

"That's no fun," I said.

He shrugged. "My mom couldn't cook at all. She burned my toast in the toaster."

"How tragic."

He looked over at me, a small smile on his face. "Cayden Sanders, are you being sarcastic?"

"Absolutely not."

He laughed and we turned onto the road that would take us to our house. "So, your mom was a good cook?"

"She was excellent," I said. "My dad was the one that burned toast."

"My dad wasn't around enough to burn toast," he said and then stared absentmindedly out the window.

I found myself wondering what kind of memories he was lost in. But why did I really care? It was strange and out of character for me.

We were silent until we arrived at the house.

"I can't wait for cinnamon rolls," he said and jogged inside.

I was a little slower to walk in, trying to sort through my thoughts before I entered. And when I did enter, Joe had a plate of cinnamon rolls, his face total ecstasy. "These," he told me solemnly. "Are amazing."

I gave him a small smile and went to grab a roll of my own.


	16. To Smile

**To Smile**

_Cayden_

As soon as I awoke, my thoughts began to crowd my mind, giving me a headache. And all of the thoughts were about the man that slept downstairs. _But why?_ I demanded of myself. _Why do I keep thinking about him? _The dream that I had just had had been about him – well, kind of about him and me; together. And he was the first thing that I had thought about when I woke up. That wasn't normal. Usually, when I first got up, my first thought was, _Well, I need a hot shower right now._ Or, sometimes, _I just really don't want to get up today._ But my first thoughts aren't supposed to be about a man. Especially a man that I'm not allowed to be attracted to.

_Breathe._

I laid back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. It was only three a.m., but I knew that sleep would elude me. And that was probably a good thing, because I had a sneaking suspicion that any dreams I had would be about Joe. And that's the other weird thing. My dreams were normally about being a sniper or anything simple like that: being lost in New York City or being a kid again. They _were not_ supposed to be about men. Well…one man. With blonde hair and super bright green eyes.

_Stop thinking like that._

But I couldn't. And it was driving me absolutely insane. And I hated it. Why couldn't I get my feelings under control? I hadn't even known him that long…

I thought back to a tale that my mother had told me once. It was about a girl and a guy that fell in love because of something called fate. Something that I had stopped believing in after…

_Joe is not your fate,_ I told myself fiercely. _You get to decide your own fate. You can decide who you want to fall in love with._

But do you, really? Or is there really just that one person that knocks you off your feet? The person that you were supposed to be with? I had used to believe that, a long time ago, but I didn't anymore. At least, I hadn't in a long time…

_I'm not supposed to feel this way_. I had a feeling that I'd seen a movie similar to my situation. Two spies were on a mission together and fell in love. Did that make my feelings totally cliché? I mean, after all, I really didn't even know him all that well. I knew a few things and some of the important things, but not the details that husbands and wives know about each other.

_He probably doesn't feel that way about you, so that's not going to happen. Seriously, get a grip on yourself._

I knew that my inner voice was right. There was no way that Joe was going to fall for someone like me. I pictured him with women hanging on him wherever he went. Even that woman at the orphanage yesterday had checked him out, just a little. But, she had thought that we were married so she had tried to refrain and be as subtle as possible. Still, it was hard not to find Joe attractive.

But I thought I was pretty normal, despite the fact that I'd gotten compliments before about me being absolutely gorgeous. I was nothing compared to Joe. And, besides that, he was probably professional enough that he wouldn't fall for his partner on a mission. So did that make me unprofessional? Or did that make me totally naïve and stupid? Or maybe just confused?

Yes, definitely confused.

I sighed and got out of bed, knowing that I was in desperate need of a shower. I thought that maybe the hot water would relieve some of the tension and maybe help to get some of the thoughts of Joe out of my mind. Right now, I would take all of the help that I could get.

The water was so warm that it stabbed at my cold skin and I jumped, almost slipping and falling in the tub.

_How embarrassing would that be?_ I thought as I regained my balance. _To have to go downstairs and wake up Joe and ask him to drive me to the hospital to sew my head back together._

I wondered what he would think of me then. I wondered if he would hold my hand on the drive to the hospital and tell me that everything would be okay. I wondered if he would insist on staying in the room with me, even when the doctor sewed my head together. I wondered if he would give me a gentle smile…

_Stop!_ I had to yell at myself from inside my head. _He doesn't feel that way about you and he never will, so just stop it! Get a grip!_

But it was so hard to. I'd always had pretty good self control, but it was all crumbling. Just like once before…

_Exactly_, the voice said in my head, self righteous. _Do you really want a repeat of all of that?_

I washed my hair with careful concentration, focusing only on the way that the shampoo foamed in my hands and the smell of the lilac that it was laced with. Finally, I stepped out of the shower and toweled off as quickly as I could because I was freezing. The winter weather was definitely becoming worse – as in, colder – as the days went by.

Then, I pulled on jeans and a simple sweater and decided to blow dry my hair. After it was dry and since I had a lot of time, I went ahead and curled it, something that I hadn't done in a while. I even put on makeup, not just the simple kind that I sometimes used but actual makeup. Eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush.

When I was done, I looked at myself in the mirror.

_Wow,_ I thought. _Where has that been hiding? _

I looked beautiful. Not to sound cocky, but I really did. And I hadn't looked that good in a long time, though I could have, if I had only bothered to try.

I smiled and sprayed on some perfume after putting on some deodorant. I felt good. I don't know why. Maybe it was the combination of my feelings for Joe and the feeling of knowing that I looked good, but I just felt incredibly good.

With one last smile at myself in the mirror, I decided to go downstairs and have a leftover cinnamon roll for breakfast. And then, I planned to watch movies all day. Or, if Joe wanted to play chess again, I wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass.

Just whatever.

_Joe_

I woke up and thought about the dream that I had just had. Cayden had been the star in it actually. There had been a fancy dinner somewhere for the CIA and I had been standing there drinking champagne, surrounded by women, naturally. And then, she had walked into the room in a gorgeous purple gown and all eyes had gone to her. Even mine. And the strangest part was that her eyes had gone to me, too. And she had flashed me a smile. Not one of her half smiles, but a real smile. Except I couldn't see it all that well because I hadn't seen her truly smile in real life. But we'd had that moment.

And then I had woken up.

It was strange, I thought, that I was dreaming about her. I mean, I thought about her a lot, but that was normal, wasn't it? I mean, when you live in the same house with someone, you're bound to think about them sometimes, right? I mean, I'm sure prisoners that are on the same block think about each other sometimes, right? But as much as I thought about Cayden…probably not.

But I had yet to find it unhealthy, so I saw no reason to stop. It wasn't like I was going to get down on one knee while we were eating our breakfast and ask her to marry me. I knew that she didn't feel the same way about me that I felt about her; I wasn't entirely stupid. I was going to act the same way that I had always acted towards her.

As for my feelings for her…they were definitely complicated. All that I knew for sure was that if any other woman – whether it had been Abby Cameron or Reese Witherspoon – had asked me to bake cinnamon rolls with her, I probably would have thought that she was crazy and made up some excuse for why I couldn't. But when Cayden had asked, I had immediately agreed to help, no consideration necessary. That had to count for something, right? The fact that I just wanted to spend time with her, no matter what we were doing? But, was it dangerous to get emotional feelings for someone that you knew didn't feel the same way?

I decided that it wasn't, as long as that person didn't know about the feelings that you had towards them. So, as long as I behaved normally towards Cayden, there shouldn't be a problem. We could just be normal partners on a mission. Except that _I_ wouldn't be totally normal because I would be worrying about protecting her all of the time and stuff. But other than that, things would be normal.

_How did this even happen_? I wondered. _You haven't even known her a month._

Believe me; I thought that it was total insanity, too. I thought that I was losing my mind or something. But then I thought back to how Cayden made me feel and I knew tha I couldn't be losing my mind, because she was the one that was somehow putting me back together.

Finally, I got out of bed even though it was early and I went to take a shower. Then, I shaved and pulled on jeans and a long sleeved button up shirt. I combed my hair down, but then, on second thought, messed it up again. I decided that I liked it messier.

Then, I figured that I would just go out and have a leftover cinnamon roll for breakfast.

And wouldn't you know it, Cayden was already there, sitting at the table and eating a roll. But the strange part was that she looked different, in a good way. Her hair was curled and _God_ it looked beautiful. She had put on makeup, too, and even though she looked good without it, her eyes really seemed to pop. And she wore jeans and a pink sweater; altogether, she just looked like an angel.

_God, I hope she doesn't notice me staring at her like that._

I cleared my throat. "Good morning."

She looked at me. "Morning. I saved you a couple of rolls, even though I could have probably finished that pan by myself."

"I appreciate the sacrifice," I smiled as I moved to get the two remaining cinnamon rolls onto a plate. I sat down at the table across from her and began to eat, stealing glances at her as often as I dared.

She finished first and moved to put her plate in the dishwasher. Then she washed the foil pan and then she came and sat back down, even though I had half expected her to walk out of the room.

"You washed the pan," I said when I had swallowed my mouthful of cinnamon roll.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah; I did."

I feigned disappointment. "That's too bad; because I was gonna flip you for dibs on licking it."

She smiled then, and it wasn't one of her half smiles. It was a real one that showed a row of her perfectly white teeth and everything. And it was so beautiful…

_I made her smile_, I thought with glee. _I actually made her smile._

And I smiled back.


	17. To Decorate

**To Decorate**

**AN: Hey, sorry for the delay - the holidays set me back! Hope everyone had a merry Christmas! Don't forget to review!**

_Cayden_

It wasn't long after breakfast that Joe announced that he needed to run in to town.

"I'll go," I volunteered.

"Nah," he said. "It'll take a while. Why don't you stay here and relax?"

So there was something in town that he needed to do that I couldn't know about. Naturally, I was curious. "Oh; okay. What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Just run a couple of errands. Do you need anything from the store?"

"No, I think we're stocked up pretty good."

He nodded and then grabbed the keys from their hook on the wall. "Okay. I'll see you in a few hours."

Well, as soon as he left I was antsy. It just seemed weird to me and I'd never been the kind of person that didn't mind being left out of the loop. No, I liked myself _in_ the loop, thank you very much. In fact, I probably would have followed him if there had been an extra vehicle.

I could have taken the helicopter, but that was extreme, so I decided instead to watch a movie. I settled for _Pride and Prejudice_, but I could never really focus on the movie. My mind kept wandering, wondering what in the world Joe was up to.

_Stop thinking about him. It doesn't matter._

And it shouldn't have, really; I knew that. But it was like I couldn't help it. I just had to know. So, I made up my mind to find out when he got home. I would demand that he tell me, if he hadn't given it up with my subtle hints.

But, as it turns out, it didn't matter. He came through the door three hours later, carrying a big white box. At first, I couldn't figure out what it was, but then, I saw that it was a Christmas tree. Dumbfounded, I just stared at him until he dropped the box to the floor. Then, I found my voice. "What are you doing?"

"Decorating the house for Christmas," he answered. "If you wanna help, there are more boxes out in the car."

I nodded and went out to get the boxes that he had been talking about. There were actually several boxes and a few packages and it took several trips to get them all in.

"What brought this on?" I asked as he finally closed the door behind us.

He shrugged. "Your cinnamon rolls sparked the idea. It's just been a while since I've had a real Christmas. I thought that I might like to share one with you, if that's okay. If not, I'd appreciate it if you helped me decorate the tree anyway."

I laughed. "I think it's a great idea."

We started by unpacking the box that held our twelve-foot tall Christmas tree. Joe went to go get the ladder while I separated the faux branches into groups by their color. Then, when he came back in, we began to put the tree together, fluffing up the branches before setting them in their place. Finally, we had the tree up and ready.

"Lights next!" he called, sounding like a little kid as he jumped off of the ladder and headed for the boxes.

I laughed.

Figuring out how the lights should work took us a while, but nothing is impossible for two operatives who have set their mind to doing something. So, once the lights were on, he brought out some really pretty silver ribbon and we wrapped that around like we had done the lights.

"Ornaments?" I guessed after the last of the ribbon had been used.

He winked at me, sending my heart soaring. "It's like you read my mind."

I laughed and he got out the many boxes of ornaments that he had picked out. "I have to say," I admitted as I looked at the cleverly coordinated chocolate brown and aqua blue. "For a guy, you didn't do too bad with the color coordination."

"It was either that or pink and silver," he said. "And I wanted colors that weren't totally girly."

"Fair," I shrugged and we began to put ornaments on, singing whatever Christmas carols popped into our heads. I have to admit, it was a total blast.

The ornaments took about twenty minutes when it was all said and done, and then there was only one thing left to do. "The angel," he said and then paused, looking at me as if a new idea had occurred.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We always had an angel at the top of our tree. But if you're, like, an atheist or something and don't want to-"

"It's fine," I interrupted, reassuring him with a smile. "It's fine."

He smiled back at me and went to go fetch the angel that would adorn the top of our tree. And he had done a good job picking her out, too. She wore a gown of silver lace that matched the ribbon and her hair was blonde and curly. Her facial features were tiny and her arms were in close to her, her hands touching just at the fingertips.

"She's beautiful," I whispered.

"Do you want to put her on?" he asked me, gesturing to the ladder.

I nodded and climbed up slowly until I could reach the top of the tree. Then, I found where I would have to plug her in and then I finally set her on the very top of the tree, holding my hand out until I was sure that she was balanced there.

Then I began to climb down. When I had only three rungs to go, however, my bare foot slipped and I slid. Joe's strong arms caught me around my waist and lifted me away from the ladder. "Are you okay?"

I took a deep breath to regain the one that I had held in while I was sure that I was going to fall and hit the ground. "Yeah," I said softly. "I'm fine." Even if I had fallen, I would have been fine; the distance wasn't that far.

He released his grip ever so slightly without letting me go. Instinctively, I turned in his arms and found that his face was mere inches from mine. I could smell the maple frosting from the cinnamon roll on his warm breath. I could practically taste it.

And then, I did. He had covered that oh so short distance and pressed his warm, soft lips to mine. And almost immediately, I closed my eyes and fell into it.

I can't even describe what it felt like; I don't think that any words in the English language would be able to do it justice. It was like a million emotions all at once, a tiny explosion from inside of me.

And then, he pulled away and I could read the same emotions that I felt on his face. And I was sure that he could see his emotions on mine.

Neither of us knew what to say, how to react, so he whispered, "Let's try out the tree."

I nodded and stepped away, reaching to plug it in. And it was just as beautiful as I had imagined it.

_Joe_

We had kissed.

We had actually _kissed_.

First, she had smiled at me that morning – a real smile, not one of those half smiles that she had used to give. And then we had kissed after we had decorated the Christmas tree. It was total insanity. But I had loved every single second of it. I had liked the sweet taste of her and the feel of her warm body pressed against mine. She smelled like vanilla and lilac, a combination that I had never imagined could be so wonderful.

And she had looked surprised, certainly, but not angry. She hadn't pushed me away or ran out of the room. Instead, we had plugged in the tree and watched it for a minute. Then, she said that she'd share her top secret hot chocolate recipe with me and we went into the kitchen to make some.

While we drank the amazing hot chocolate, we watched one of the DVDs that I had bought in town – _Frosty, the Snowman_. We had both pretended to be interested in the movie, but I knew that neither of us really was. I could feel her stealing glances at me when she thought I wasn't watching, just as I was stealing glances at her when I didn't think she was watching.

After the movie, we had decorated the rest of the house, putting tinsel on the staircase and a bowl of ornaments in the middle of the kitchen table. We hung a few snowmen up on the walls and hung up the stockings that I had bought. The whole house soon had an air of Christmas cheer, and we both really liked it.

What I didn't like was how we moved around each other, as if bringing up that kiss would be the end of the world. I had liked it – loved it, actually, and I had been pretty sure that she liked it, too. But, I decided to let her deal with it in her own way.

After a delicious supper of Frito chili pie – mine with mustard and hers with shredded cheese sprinkled on top – we had decided to call it a night. She had gone upstairs and I had watched her go until she had disappeared, and I knew that I would be dreaming of her all night. Then, I had headed into my own room and read a couple of the files before I finally pulled on pajama pants and a T-shirt and settled into bed.

It was an hour later when I heard my door open. At first, I thought that it was part of my dream, but I knew that it wasn't, so I sat up, wary. And imagine my surprise when I saw that Cayden was standing in the doorway, shrouded by darkness. She stepped inside when she noticed me sitting up and I saw her shiver slightly. She was only wearing a pair of silky pajamas that were very sexy, but that I doubted protected her very well from the cold.

"Cayden?" I whispered softly, scared that it was all a dream.

"You said that I could come into your room anytime," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. "Does that include the middle of the night?"

"I think it _especially_ includes the middle of the night," I answered.

She shivered.

I held the quilt and the sheets up and away from me, an invitation. "Come on; you look like you're freezing."

She moved slowly – but not hesitatingly – towards the bed and slipped between the covers, her body next to mine. Her skin was warm, despite the fact that she had been shivering, and she snuggled in close to me, though I wasn't sure if that was intentional or because she liked my body heat. I hoped that it was the former, but I would have settled for the latter.

"Are you okay?" I asked her finally, after a few moments of silence.

"I had a bad dream," she confided. "About something I haven't thought about in a long time. And I couldn't face the dark alone right now."

I slipped my arms around her and she didn't fight me at all. In fact, she snuggled in even closer to me, until our bodies were pressed against each other. I kissed the top of her head, letting my lips linger for longer than they had to. "You can stay here," I whispered. "You'll be safe."

She would have been safe in her own room, but I didn't point this out and she didn't either. Instead, she whispered, "Thank you," her breath tickling the skin of my throat.

And our hearts beat together in the silence and I listened to the rhythm for as long as I could before sleep finally came to claim me.


	18. To Change

**To Change**

_Joe_

To be honest about it, I was scared to open my eyes the next morning. I was afraid that I would find that it had all been a dream – that Cayden hadn't really come into my room in the dead of the night because she'd had a bad dream and didn't want to be alone. But, I finally mustered up the courage and opened my eyes. And I loved what I found.

Cayden was there, sleeping next to me, her face peaceful like an angel's, her hair splayed across the pillow. Her scent, that sweet sweet scent of lilac and vanilla, washed over me and I breathed in deeply.

_How did this happen?_

But I didn't care how it had happened. I was just glad that it had. But, it also brought about a lot of confusion. For example: I had no idea if this meant that we were, like, _together_. Did she want that? Or had she just had a moment of weakness? Maybe she had just been so starved for some type of human interaction that she couldn't help herself. Maybe she would wake up and flee the room once she realized what had happened.

God, that would hurt me so badly.

_Well, you're about to find out._

Her eyelids fluttered and then opened, revealing her gorgeous blue eyes that I found myself falling into. She took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes widening.

"It's okay," I whispered, my arms tightening around her slightly, pulling her a little bit closer. "It's okay."

"Did I really come in here last night?" she whispered.

"Yes," I replied softly.

She shook her head slightly. "I thought it was all a dream."

"No, it wasn't," I said. "Thank goodness for that."

She blushed slightly. "Things are going to change now, aren't they?"

"I hope so. I really hope so," I said before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"Are we…?" she paused, trying to find the words. "Are we, like…"

"Together?" I supplied.

She nodded.

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me," I said, reaching out to brush some hair away from her face.

She blinked and looked away form my eyes. "I don't know, Joe. I don't think I can…"

"We can take it slow," I promised her.

She looked back up at me. "Joe…"

"I really like you, Cayden," I told her softly. _Actually, I may be in love with you._ "Please, just give this a chance." There had been a time when Abby had said those words to me; when she had begged me to give a relationship with her a chance. But I hadn't wanted to; it had been not too long after the debacle with Matt, and I just couldn't. And even later, I couldn't. So she had finally given up. At least, I had hoped that she had.

And I had promised myself that I would never fall in love, no matter what and no matter who. But here I was, in the middle of the forest in the middle of a mission, in love with my partner on the aforementioned mission. And I was praying that she was falling in love with me too. Or that she would at least give herself a chance to. But, if she wouldn't, I knew that I wasn't going to press it. What she wanted was what she was going to get, even if it would hurt me.

"A chance," she repeated softly.

"Yes," I said, just as softly as her. "Just a chance."

She took a few moments and then, finally, she nodded her head slowly. "Okay," she whispered. "A chance."

I smiled and pressed my lips to hers. "That's all I need," I whispered. "Just a chance."

_Cayden_

Things began to change after that morning, just like I had known that they would. Joe went to take a shower and I went up to my room to take a shower in my own bathroom. Then, we had joined in the living room and decided on a movie to watch. And while we sat together on the couch, he had slipped his arm around my shoulders and my head had automatically rested on his shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. And I stayed there until the movie had ended.

Then, Joe helped me grill some chicken to eat for lunch. He ate his between a hamburger bun and I ate mine plain, and we talked the whole time, about the weather, about Christmas approaching, and about his Blackthorne experiences.

Turns out, Blackthorne had been a school for assassins, not for spies. Joe said that he was intent on changing that, though. He wanted the boys that went to Blackthorne to have normal schooling, kind of like the girls at the famous Gallagher Academy. While he was talking about Blackthorne, he brought up the Circle of Cavan, telling me that it was an absolute secret that he had ever joined. He had walked away, though, and he knew that he was in danger because they didn't exactly accept resignations. He said that they were responsible for the disappearance and possible murder of his best friend, Matthew Morgan. He said that he planned to find out what had happened to Matt.

"You know," I said, delving into my mind. "I had a partner on a mission once and we found out that he was from an organization that had something to do with a circle. I think it was the Circle of Cavan."

He seemed interested. "What happened?"

"The CIA came to the safe house that we were staying in," I answered. "There were a bunch of them; all kinds of agents. They came and arrested him and he's still in custody, I'm pretty sure. All that they would tell me was that he belonged to an evil organization. I had to be questioned, too, of course. Investigated; I guess they thought that he had recruited me or something."

"Did he?" Joe teased.

"Definitely not," I answered as I took a bite of my chicken.

"They have recruiters everywhere," he said. "To be honest, I thought that you were a member because you were so distant towards me. But then I figured there was no way that you would have joined a group like that."

"You think they would want to recruit me?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded, his face solemn. "They recruit everywhere, Cayden. And they take most people that want to join, but they also want the best. And you're the best sniper that the world has seen in a long time. Of course they would want you. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they had heard about you and have tried to find you before."

I shuddered. "Creepy."

He nodded. "I agree."

"So what are you going to do about them?"

"Well, after this mission, I'm going to work at the Gallagher Academy."

"Really?" I asked. "How?"

"The headmistress there is Rachel Morgan."

I made the connection. "Is she Matt's sister?"

"Wife," he corrected. "And she has a daughter. Cammie. I want to make sure that Cammie is prepared for the real world. I want to make a difference for these girls. I want to help them."

"That's admirable," I said with a smile.

He shrugged and then his face lit up. "Hey, we could get you a job there, too, if you want."

His excitement made me laugh, but I didn't buy into his plan. "Joe, I'm a sniper. I wouldn't have a place there."

"We could find you one," he said. "You speak a lot of languages, right?"

I nodded.

"We could get you a job there as the new linguistics teacher. Lord knows the other one is getting on in years…"

I shook my head. "Joe, come on. I'm a sniper that goes on missions to kill people for the CIA. If I had a place teaching anywhere, it would be at Blackthorne. Or at the academy at Quantico."

"That's too far away from me," he said softly.

"So what are you going to teach at Gallagher?" I asked.

I knew that he knew what I was doing – that I was changing the subject. But he played along. "Covert Operations. The old teacher, Patricia Buckingham, is getting really old. I don't think that the girls learn that much in there. I think they just watch old movies and go over theoretical circumstances. They probably see more action in Protection and Enforcement than they do in CoveOps."

"You'll have to whip 'em into shape, then," I said and sipped at my ginger ale.

He nodded. "It's gonna take a while. But I can do it. And I was thinking that maybe someday I could get Rachel and Blackthorne's headmaster to agree to an exchange."

"A school exchange?" I asked. "Like how high schools have the foreign exchange program?"

"Exactly like that," he said. "I want the Blackthorne kids to see what they're missing; to learn from the best school in the world and take some of that culture back with them to Blackthorne."

I nodded slowly. "That's nice."

He shot me a grin that made my heart speed up and then he covered my hand with his. "So, let's talk about you."

_Joe_

Things changed and I absolutely loved it. Cayden talked to me differently now and though there were still some things that she wouldn't talk about – basically everything from years sixteen to twenty – it was sufficient. And she smiled at me now, no more of those little half smiles. And she laughed, that beautiful, musical sound that always got me laughing, too. The changes were all for the better. They were perfect.

Every night, she slept in my room or I slept in hers. Once, we even fell asleep on the couch together and had woken up and had to pop each other's backs because of the uncomfortable position that we'd fallen asleep in.

Christmas was approaching, and I made an excuse to go into town and buy her a present. I knew that she had bought me one too – after all, I was one of the world's top operatives, but I pretended that I didn't know just like she pretended that she didn't know.

I taught her all of the martial arts that I knew and she got quite good at it. So good that she actually put me on the ground a few times. And, she even tried to teach me how to shoot. She tried to teach me how to factor in the wind and the angle from which you were taking the shots. And I got to where I could make a straight shot, but anything else was just too difficult for me without a scope, which she wouldn't let me use because she never used one unless it was a heat detector or a night vision scope.

And we kissed, on occasion. She was timid and shy, but that made it all the more sweet. Once, I had hovered over her on the couch and it had been going towards something more, but her eyes had grown wide and frightened and I had immediately moved away, giving her the space that she needed. And finally she had come back to sit by me. But when I had asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't answer me. She said that it was nothing, though I knew that was a lie. But I respected her privacy and let it go.

Not everything had changed. There were still those times that she got lost in thought, her eyes dark with far away memories that still haunted her and hurt her, somewhere deep inside. But, now, all I had to do was take her hand or press my lips to her forehead, and she would come back to me. She would flash me a smile and say, "What are we going to do next?"

And that was something that I was glad had changed.


	19. To Wake

**To Wake**

_Cayden_

The whole span of our relationship thus far had felt like a dream. Kissing him was a sensation that couldn't be matched and I fell asleep easily every single night because I was lying next to him. That's something else that I hadn't thought would happen anytime soon – sleeping in the same bed with a man. I mean, it's not like we were _doing_ anything, but I still hadn't imagined it. I hadn't imagined anything like what I was feeling. Being with Joe made me feel good, like I had before the whole debacle of my life had started eight years earlier.

Not that Joe knew anything about that. I mean, I was sure that he noticed that I zoned out quite frequently; actually, I knew. He would look at me as if he were trying to decide whether or not he wanted to try to press the matter, and each time, he didn't, for which I was thankful. I had no idea what I would tell him if he asked. Not the truth, most likely. I could hardly admit the truth to myself, and it had been eight years. Well, technically five… But still, I didn't think that I had completely come to terms with it. And if _I_ hadn't even come to terms with it, how could I describe it to Joe? How would he react to the news?

The morning was cold and I snuggled closer to Joe. He stirred and then his eyes opened and I smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. "You don't have to be sorry. How long have you been up?"

I decided that I really liked his husky morning voice. It raised goosebumps on my arms and sent a shiver down my spine. "Not too long. Maybe five minutes."

"Mmm." His arms tightened around me and I rested my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. "So what are we going to do today?"

"I need to go into town to get a few things from the grocery store," I said. "Just some food and stuff."

"Can I come?"

"I'd rather you didn't," I admitted.

He chuckled. "I like that about you; your honesty."

"I try," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Sounds like you didn't get enough sleep."

I shrugged. "I'll be okay. I'm gonna go take a shower, okay?"

"Okay, me too," he said and moved towards his bathroom.

I went upstairs to my room and took a quick shower before changing into jeans and an American Eagle shirt. Then, I blow dried my hair and fixed it up into a French twist. I put on a tiny bit of makeup, sprayed on some perfume, and then made sure that I had the money card that the agency had given us before I went downstairs. Joe was in the kitchen, heating up his breakfast in the microwave. He smiled at me when I came in. "You sure I can't come?"

I walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure. Do something productive here."

"Like what?" he laughed.

"Go for a run, practice your shooting…something like that."

"Or practice my chess skills."

"Or _develop_ some skills," I corrected as I headed for the door, grabbing the key along the way.

"That's mean!" he called after me.

I laughed as I shut the door behind me. On the drive to town, I listened to Christmas songs and sang along with them. At the grocery store, I picked up the few items that I needed and as I was waiting for them to wrap Joe's Christmas present, the men came in.

There were three of them, all dressed in black – black coats, black pants, black shoes. Even their hair was black. And I knew that they were Italian, first of all by their looks and second of all by their language. They were speaking blatant Italian, even though the area that we were in wasn't one where people just walked around speaking Italian. But, of course, I could understand them.

"We need a worker," one was saying.

Another one shook his head. "How are we going to find someone on such short notice? And a woman, at that. Most women around here don't want to work."

"And one that can speak Italian…"

"Well we could at least put the word out," the last one said. "Here, I think that the cinnamon is over here."

How strange…Men that I knew were involved in everything from embezzlement to murder were in a grocery store to get cinnamon. And they needed a female for something or another, though I didn't know what. But I did know that it was perfect. Because I was a female, I could speak Italian, and it was my opportunity to get inside.

The woman that was wrapping the present still hadn't come back, but the men passed by again.

"We only need her for one day," one of them said.

"If we can even find her," the other said.

And that's when the plan formed. I pretended that I had just remembered that I needed to grab something. A cereal, perhaps. I got it in my head to make it more real. And then, when they got closer, I whirled around and headed off. And when I bumped into one of them, I began to apologize in rapid Italian, speaking nonsense about needing some cereal and that I wasn't a native and I hated it here.

The man that I had run into caught my arm to balance me and smiled at the other two men, who got similar smiles on their faces and nodded. The man spoke to me in Italian. "You are Italian?"

I knew that telling them I was wouldn't work. I didn't look like a native Italian. "I only work there, sir," I said as he let go of my arm. "For five years. And I am anxious to get back."

"What do you do?" he asked me.

"A maid," I said, the first thing that popped into my head. "A nanny, really."

He nodded slowly. "How would you like to make fifteen hundred dollars?"

My eyes widened, and it wasn't from acting. That was truly a lot of money for whatever they were planning. "Fifteen hundred?" I asked. "For doing what, sir?"

"We own the warehouse at the end of the street," one of the other two said. His eyes were beady, dark, cold. "We need someone to come in and watch my children tomorrow. My wife will be out of town and I'm afraid that staying home with them isn't an option. There's a meeting tomorrow, you see."

"Oh," I said and pretended to think. "I don't know, sir."

"It would only be for a few hours," he said. "Just until the meeting is over."

I thought about it some more. "I suppose. What time should I be there, then?"

"Noon should do it," he said and reached out to grasp my hand. "Thank you so much, miss. This will be a great help."

"My pleasure," I said, even though I wouldn't help these lying murderers ever. I was only "helping" them so that I could get inside the warehouse and case it. And maybe even find Dominic's computer and make a copy of his hard drive…

They bid me farewell and I watched them go, letting out a breath that I hadn't known I was holding as soon as they were out the door.

"Ma'am?"

I looked over to the counter and saw the woman standing there with two beautifully wrapped silver packages. "Here you are."

"Thank you," I told her, smiling. I took the presents, went up front to pay for the rest of the groceries and then drove home, breaking the speed limit the entire way. We had gotten lucky; incredibly lucky. Joe was going to be thrilled.

_Joe_

Cayden came in the door at a run, which alarmed me until I saw that she was smiling. So, I smiled, too. "Why the rush?"

"You're never going to believe this," she said as she set two silver parcels and a grocery bag down on the counter.

"Believe what you got me for Christmas?" I asked with a grin, giving a pointed look to the packages.

She looked at them and blushed. "I meant to hide those. Oh well, we'll just put them under the tree. But listen! I'm going into the warehouse tomorrow!"

I froze, setting down the glass of grape juice that I had been drinking. "Wait…What do you mean you're going in the warehouse tomorrow?"

"The warehouse that we've been casing!" she said with delight. "Dominic's warehouse!"

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "And just how are you planning to pull that off?"

In a rush, she explained to me what had happened while she'd been at the grocery store. How one of the Italian guys needed a babysitter while he was in a meeting at the warehouse. How she had pretended to be a nanny form Italy that was available to watch his kids.

"I should have come," I said.

I guess she didn't like the tone of my voice. Her smile faded. "I thought you'd be happy. This is a great opportunity, Joe. I'll probably be able to make a copy of his hard drive to figure out what he's planning in Saudi Arabia and I can get a mental map of the inside of the place so that we don't have to guess. And I can check out the cameras and the security guards and-"

"Stop," I said, holding up a hand to silence her. "Just hold on a second. Maybe you should have consulted me before you accepted this offer."

She looked a little bewildered. "What are you talking about? It couldn't wait, Joe. It was the perfect time; the perfect opportunity."

I shook my head. "It's dangerous, is what it is."

She began to unload the groceries. A box of Pop-Tarts, a loaf of bread, a spice that I couldn't name. "It's not a big deal. I just have to be there tomorrow at noon. Watch the kids for three hours. You can be outside on a rooftop or something if you want. You can watch. I'll wear a comms unit. Whatever." She put the spice away and then the Pop-Tarts.

I moved the bread. "Yeah, I will. But I still think that there was another way that we could have gotten inside. This is just so impromptu and unplanned…it's really dangerous, Cayden."

She opened the fridge and got out the grape juice. "Yes, Joe, I know. But, newsflash: everything that we do is dangerous. We're in danger every second of the day." She poured some of the purple liquid into a clear glass. "I can do this."

I sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt or-"

Suddenly, she was kissing me. She had never initiated it before, and it surprised me. Slowly, I closed my eyes and moved my hands to her hips, holding her close. When she pulled away, she smiled gently at me, her breath fanning my face. "Let's not argue about this, okay?"

I nodded slowly.

"I'm going in," she said. "Okay? And you can stay outside and we can communicate through comms if you want. Got it?"

"You're wearing comms," I told her. "We have that new kind that can't be picked up by the metal detector."

She nodded and smiled. "Good. Glad we could settle our differences." And then she grabbed the packages off of the counter and went into the living room so that she could put them under the tree. "By the way," she called. "We had a tradition in my family. If you can guess what I got you for Christmas, then you can open it early."

I smiled. "A book?"

"Nope."

I tried to think about the parcels' size. "Umm…a Swiss army knife?"

"You're not even close," she laughed and I almost forgot all about the warehouse visit.

Almost.


	20. To Decide

**To Decide**

_Joe_

"I bought a CD of Christmas songs while I was out," she told me and held up the white CD. "They're in Gaelic, but maybe you'll be able to understand some of them."

I smiled at her. "I'm fine with just listening to you sing."

She blushed as she fumbled with the CD player. Then, a song came on. One that I kind of recognized. "What is this?"

"_Winter Wonderland," _she answered.

"Sing it in English," I requested.

She sighed. "Fine." Then, she started to sing, with the Gaelic woman's singing sounding like background lyrics. "Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin'? In the lane, snow is glistenin'. A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight. Walkin' in a winter wonderland."

I could picture it. Walking hand in hand with Cayden, walking through the snow as it fell down. Laughing and listening to her sing. Drinking hot chocolate by a fire place. Opening presents on Christmas. Baking cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Maybe having a child with her and going through their first Christmas.

_Whoa, buddy. You're moving way too fast._

But I couldn't help it. Everything about Cayden screamed that she would be an amazing mother. She could cook and clean and she had taken those cinnamon rolls to the orphanage. She was kind and compassionate and I knew that she would be just what a child needed when it came to being a mother.

_Maybe she doesn't want kids,_ the voice said. _Most operatives don't. And for a good reason. Look at what happened to Matt. That could be you. You could leave behind your wife and kid. How do you think that would make them feel?_

I shook the thoughts away and focused in on Cayden singing, done thinking about our future for the time being. I decided instead to focus on the present. After all, the present was all that you could ever really count on.

"Gone away is the bluebird. Here to stay is a new bird. He sings a new song. As we go along. Walkin' in a winter wonderland."

I decided that there was no sense in being mad about the job that she had taken. She'd only been doing what was best for the mission – and she had gotten us a way to case the inside. And, she was right; she would have the perfect opportunity to copy Dominic's hard drive because everyone would be in the meeting except for her. I was only concerned for her safety. But, I knew that she was used to working alone, so she wouldn't have seen it as any kind of problem to accept the job. She wasn't used to consulting with a partner.

"In the meadow we can build a snowman. And pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say: Are you married? We'll say: No, man. But you can do the job when you're in town."

Building a snowman. Now that would be fun to do with Cayden. Of course, we would have to wait for actual snow. It had been snowing on and off all week, but the snow was never thick enough to build a snowman out of. But I knew that the snow was coming soon. I had seen the weather reports and I had been in this part of the world during winter once before. It could get pretty brutal. I reminded myself to make sure that we had plenty of firewood stored up in the house just in case the heater broke or something. And flashlights in case the electricity went out. Or maybe candles. Or the firelight would do.

"Later on, we'll conspire. As we dream by the fire. To face unafraid, the plans that we've made. Walkin' in a winter wonderland."

Yes, dreaming by the fire. Sitting on the couch with her right next to me, her head resting on my chest or on my shoulder. Cuddling and just talking, a quilt thrown over us for extra warmth and hot chocolate nearby, maybe some popcorn or some cookies. Yeah, that truly sounded divine. It was like something I'd dreamed of before; something that I had never thought I would have the opportunity to actually do. But I did, now.

"In the meadow we can build a snowman. And pretend that he's a circus clown…"

I had never heard that version before. I smiled.

"We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman. Until the other kids knock him down."

Nope, I had never heard that version before. But I liked it. I had a feeling that I would like anything that Cayden chose to sang. I knew that I was falling in love with her rather quickly. Sometimes it unnerved me a little bit.

"When it snows, ain't it thrillin'? Though your nose gets a chillin'. We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way. Walkin' in a winter wonderland."

The song ended and I let myself laugh.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"I'm not laughing at you," I told her. "I've just never heard that version of the song before."

"It's the original version," she said. "It was published in nineteen-thirty-four. The composer was Felix Bernard and the lyricist was Richard B. Smith. But people have changed the lyrics as they please."

"How in the world do you know so many random facts?" I asked.

She grinned. "Want to know another?"

"Sure," I shrugged.

"It's illegal to cross the state borders of Iowa with a duck on your head."

I pretended to be disappointed, even though I was dying to roll on the floor and laugh and laugh. You couldn't cross the border with a duck on your head? What if you were just carrying it in your hands? And what kind of duck would sit still on a person's head? And what kind of person would carry one on their head? "Well," I said, totally serious. "There goes my summer vacation."

She laughed, throwing her head back to reveal her graceful neck. And I decided then that I was going to make her fall in love with me. I decided that I would love her forever, no matter what. I decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

And when I decide something, it's basically set in stone.

_Cayden_

"What song should we sing next?" I asked after _Winter Wonderland_.

"I don't know what's on the CD," he shrugged. "You pick one while I go get your present to put under the tree."

I looked at the list on the back of the CD case and finally picked one. As I was fast forwarding to the track, Joe came in with three boxes wrapped in shiny red paper and stacked on top of each other, tied together with two silver ribbons, tied at the top in a beautiful bow. "I wrapped them myself," he joked as he set them down beside the tree.

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes and then found the track that I was looking for.

"What's this one?" he asked as he settled back onto the couch.

"_The Twelve Days of Christmas_."

"You're joking," he laughed.

I shook my head. "Here it comes."

We both sang along to the song, him in English and I in the same language as the woman on the CD.

"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: a partridge in a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree. On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree. On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: five golden rings! Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree. On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: six geese a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree. On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings! Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree. On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree."

"On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree. On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree."

"On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree."

"On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings. Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree."

We finished the song and began to laugh, panting for breath. Finally, when we had regained our composure and I had turned off the CD player, he asked, "Any random facts about this song?"

"Not many," I admitted. "Do you have any?"

He nodded. "When I was ten, the preacher of our church told us that each of the gifts was a religious symbol."

I laughed. "Of what?"

"Well," he began. "True love refers to God."

"Of course," I muttered.

He flashed me a smile before continuing. "The two turtle doves refer to the Old and New Testaments. The three French hens refers to Faith, Hope, and Charity, the Theological Virtues. The four calling birds refer to the Four Gospels and the four evangelists. The five golden rings refer to the first five books of the Old Testament, which gives the history of man's fall from grace. The six geese a-laying refers to the six days of creation. The seven swans a-swimming refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments. The eight maids a-milking refers to the eight beatitudes. The nine ladies dancing refers to the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit. The ten lords a-leaping refers to the Ten Commandments. Eleven pipers piping refers to the eleven faithful apostles. And the twelve drummers drumming refers to the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed."

I remained completely silent for a few moments, trying to process everything that he had just said. That was a lot to take in.

"Well?" he finally asked, a small smile on his face.

"Well what?" I asked, even though I knew what he meant.

"Well, what do you think?" he clarified, looking closely at my face.

I looked right into his green eyes and said, "I think that's a bunch of crap that religious people make up to make everything about them."

"I think they're trying to make everything about God," he laughed. "But I see your point."

I shrugged.

Then, he kneeled down in front of me to kiss me, slowly and softly. When he pulled away, he whispered, "Let's stay in your room tonight."

I nodded and let him pull me to my feet and lead me up the stairs.


	21. To Risk

**To Risk**

_Joe_

"Do you believe in God?" I whispered to her in the dead of night. I hadn't been sleeping; I was too busy worrying about what would happen tomorrow. Or, rather, about what _might_ happen. There were a hundred possibilities and they got a little out of control in my head.

I hadn't expected her to answer, but she did. "I used to, but not anymore."

I pulled her a little closer, taking comfort in her warm, petite body. "I thought you were asleep."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "Then why were you talking to me?"

I stroked her soft hair. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Oh." She sighed, her warm breath fanning the bare skin of my chest. In the dark, I traced circles on her arms, my mind a million miles away. I didn't think that she was going to get caught, but I still couldn't help but be afraid for her. She had been right earlier; everything that a spy did was dangerous. We were always in danger. And I didn't like her being in danger.

"You used to?" I pressed, just wanting to hear her voice.

It came out thick with sleep. "Yeah; I used to."

"Why don't you anymore?"

She sighed again. Or maybe it was a yawn. "Because a God that's supposed to be so compassionate lets the most horrible things happen. And preaches unconditional love by God, but there are always conditions. You have to believe what you're told in order to get everything you want."

"That's an interesting point of view." I knew that her main reason had to be the first one; I knew that God had let something horrible happen in her life. But what?

"Do you?"

"Believe in God?"

I felt her nod against my chest.

"I don't know," I sighed. "I'm not an atheist; I'm just not sure what to believe anymore."

"There are six reasons that anyone does anything, you know," she said, sitting up slightly. "And one of those is faith."

I ran my hands up and down her slender arms, feeling the toned muscles there tighten slightly at my touch. "What are the other five?" I asked her, intrigued.

"Love, greed, boredom fear, and…"

I had a sense that the last one troubled her. "What?" I whispered softly, my hands freezing on her toned biceps. "What's the last one?"

"Revenge," she said softly and I felt the slight shudder that went through her.

I pulled her down closer to me, until her head was resting on my chest once more. Then I began to massage her back, trying to relax her. "That's a very astute observation."

"One of my…teachers told me that once."

"At the academy?"

She shook her head. "No. In my private school."

"What class was that?" I asked. "Philosophy?"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" she said. "No, it was history."

"What kind of history?"

"World History," she answered.

"Well," I mused, "I guess that could make sense with some of the wars or something. And it was probably good for the students to hear anyway. Because it's true."

She nodded. "Yeah. Except it had nothing to do with a war," she said, her voice sounding far away, as if she were trapped in a long ago memory. "And I was the only student that he said it to."

"You seem like the kind of student that would go in early," I smiled, trying to put some humor into the conversation to relax her.

"Yeah…" Then, suddenly, she got out of bed and headed for her dresser, where she pulled out some clothes.

"Cayden?" I asked, concerned.

"I'm gonna take a shower," she said. "I'm not tired anymore."

I looked over at the digital clock beside her bed. "But it's only three in the morning."

She shrugged. "This is the time I usually get up anyway." Then, she went into her bathroom and closed the door behind her. After a few moments, I heard the sound of water being turned on and then the steady stream as it hit the tub.

That confirmed what I had thought before. There was something in her past that she absolutely refused to talk about to anyone. And it had something to do with her life in high school. And I desperately wanted to find out what it was. After all, if there was still a wall between us, no matter how thin, we could never be close enough to truly love one another.

I got out of bed and pulled on the shirt that I had discarded the night before. Then, I looked around the room, turning on a lamp so that I could see a little better. And that's when I spotted the safe in the corner of the room. I knew that was probably where she kept her gun, but she probably kept something else in there, too. The problem was that I had no way of getting in there because I hadn't brought my safe-cracking tools. And it wasn't like you could go and buy the tools you needed at a local hardware store. But, I did know a few ways of opening the safe, which I planned to do sometime soon.

I heard the shower water turn off so I quietly switched off the lamp and got back in bed, waiting, counting the seconds to myself in my head.

After five minutes, she came out wearing jeans and a pale blue sweater, her hair up in a slightly damp ponytail. She had a tiny bit of makeup on, but not much and I could smell the vanilla perfume coming from her.

"This is dangerous," I said softly.

She nodded her head as she set the pajamas in the corner with the rest of her used laundry. "I know that."

"It's a big risk," I said. "They'll have already memorized your face, and…"

She turned to me and the ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "I know it's a risk, Joe. But if you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat."

I couldn't help but wonder if that was more knowledge from her world history teacher. But I put a smile on my face. "I may have to steal that saying."

She shrugged. "Be my guest. We should probably get the comms all set up and eat a good breakfast. I'll be thirty minutes early to the warehouse."

I nodded and got out of bed, stretching. "Okay, let's do it." And I had other things that I wanted to do as well.

_Cayden_

The memories that Joe had managed to bring back were like little knives stabbing at my heart, making it difficult to breathe. But, I pressed on and suggested that Joe and I make French breakfast puffs for breakfast.

"What are French breakfast puffs?" he asked me as I preheated the oven.

"They're like muffins, but better."

He shrugged. "You haven't let me down so far. Let's try it."

I got out a large bowl and said, "Pour three cups of flour in this."

While he did that, I put in three teaspoons of baking powder and one teaspoon of salt.

"Good," I said, "Now you stir that."

While he stirred, I went and got the nutmeg. "You can stop stirring now," I said and when he did, I added half a teaspoon of nutmeg.

Then I took the bowl from the mixer and put in two-thirds of a cup of shortening. "Add a cup of sugar, will you?"

Joe added the sugar and I turned the mixer on, letting it stir the ingredients automatically while I went to get the eggs. "Here," I said as I handed the eggs to Joe. "Crack those and let it stir them in."

He did as I asked while I went and got the flour mixture from the other bowl and the milk. I told Joe to measure out a cup of milk and he poured that in slowly while I added the mixture from the other bowl in. Then, while he watched the mixer, I went and sprayed non-stick cooking spray onto the muffin pan. Thank God (if he exists) for non-stick cooking spray; it makes everything so much easier than using butter to grease the pan.

"Okay," I called to Joe. "You can stop the mixer now and bring the bowl over here."

He did as he was asked and together, we filled the muffin pan with the mixture. He put it in the oven and I set the timer for twenty-three minutes.

"Twenty-three minutes?" he asked. "That just seems like the most random number in the world."

I laughed. "Well, the recipe says twenty to twenty-five minutes, so I usually just go with twenty-three."

We got the comms set up for a while and then I took him back into the kitchen.

"Melt those two sticks of butter in the microwave in this pan," I said.

He followed my orders and I put sugar and cinnamon in another identical pan. Then, we set the pans side by side and the timer went off to signal that the muffins were done.

"Now comes the fun part," I said with a grin at Joe. "Do you want the butter or the cinnamon sugar?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is there a difference?"

I took the muffins out of the oven and got a large plate down and set it on the other side of the butter and cinnamon sugar pans. "Not really," I answered. "They're both equally important to the deliciousness of the muffin."

He shrugged. "Sugar, then."

I nodded and moved to the muffin pan. "Okay," I said as I carefully lifted one out. "Here's how it goes. I take the muffin and roll it in the butter to coat it. Like this." I rolled the muffin in the butter. Then, I held it out to him. "And then you coat it in the cinnamon sugar."

He smiled as he took the muffin and began to roll it in the cinnamon sugar. "So this would be an activity that little kids would enjoy."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. But I don't recommend it because they'd probably lick their fingers after every muffin."

"True," he laughed.

It took us almost ten minutes to get all of the muffins done, and then we decided to wash the pans before we ate any. He washed and I dried this time, and then we finally went over to get a French breakfast puff. He, predictably, picked the largest one and I picked the smallest one, though I waited until he took the first bite of his.

His eyes widened and he said, "I think you should cook for me for the rest of my life."

I laughed. "Well, I'm glad you like them. But, you only get two. I'm going to take these over to the warehouse with me for the kids."

He pouted and I laughed.

We finished our muffins (breakfast puffs) fairly quickly and I found a paper plate large enough to put the rest of them on. Then, I covered them with aluminum foil and set them aside to take with me later.

"Here," Joe said, fishing something out of his pocket that looked like a flash drive.

"What is it?" I asked as I wiped my hands off on a napkin and took it from him.

"It's to copy his hard drive," he said. "It's untraceable, so he won't be able to tell that anyone has been on his computer. But, let me be very clear, we_ don't_ have to have this. If it's going to be dangerous for you to get in, then don't go in. Got it?"

I rolled my eyes and put the hard drive copier into the pocket of my jeans. "Yeah; got it."

"I'm serious. This is risky," he warned me.

I smiled and leaned up to peck him on his cheek. "I know you're serious, Joe," I told him. "And I know this is risky."

And I did.


	22. To Find

**To Find**

_Cayden_

"I'll be right up on this roof," Joe told me from the comms unit, his voice sounding perfectly clear in my ear. I was rather impressed at the new technology. The comms unit was so small that there's no way it would get noticed by anyone and yet, I could hear Joe perfectly. "How does it sound? Can you hear me okay?"

"Crystal," I said.

"That doesn't even make sense," he said.

"It did in my head," I replied as I walked along, holding onto the paper plate that held the muffins.

"Don't forget that you have to speak Italian."

"Well duh," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. He was treating me like I was a little kid. "Give me some credit; I'm pretty smart. After all, I can kick your butt at chess."

"Chess is a game," he reminded me. "This is real life. If they find anything out, they won't hesitate to shoot you."

"I bet they're not as good a shot as me."

"This is serious, Cayden!"

I couldn't help but exhale a laugh. "Would you calm down? I'm well aware of the risk and I was aware of it when I decided to go for it. I'm gonna be okay."

"Could you start speaking Italian?" he wondered. "Just for practice?"

I sighed and when I spoke, it was in flawless Italian. "You really need to calm down. And I really need to stop talking because I'm approaching the warehouse."

"Good luck," he said. "Be careful. And if you need me, just say the code word."

"Remind me why you picked 'French breakfast puff' as the code word," I said. "That's three words."

"Please stop talking," he said and I smiled.

I reached the warehouse and unsurprisingly, the three Italian men that I had seen in the grocery store were waiting, still wearing all black, though I knew that they were different clothes.

"Welcome," one of them said.

"Thank you," I responded in my perfect Italian. I held up the plate. "I brought some muffins for the children."

He stepped forward and peeked under the aluminum foil, though he put it right back down, apparently okay with what he saw. "That will be perfect; they had a light breakfast this morning. Come; I will introduce you."

No metal detector test or anything. That was too easy.

It was as if Joe had read my thoughts. "They probably have a metal detector installed in the main door. But remember, the comms won't send off an alert."

We passed through the main door without a problem, and then we were in a large lobby. What surprised me most was that there were no cameras. Because they expected any intruders to get stopped outside. They'd had some pretty heavy duty cameras patrolling the area.

There was a large waiting room type area, and three small kids sat there, waiting. The man stepped forward and gestured to me. "Your sitter for the day, children. Introduce yourselves."

The oldest looking one stepped forward. "I am Stefanie and I'm five."

Then the next one. "I am Gustave and I am three."

"I'm Zoë and I am two!"

I smiled. "My name is Melanie and I'm twenty-two." Why is it that all women make themselves younger when they're lying about their age? Although, in my case, it was only a couple of years.

The three men began to leave and the father of the children turned back to me. "We'll see you here in a few hours."

I nodded. "See you then."

Once he was gone, the kids came running up to me. "What's in the plate?"

"Muffins," I said, smiling brightly at them. "Would you like one?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" They crowed and I laughed.

"Okay," I said and took the foil off, careful to give them the ones with the sleeping serum in them (the serum that wouldn't show up in any kind of test). Because as soon as they were asleep, I was planning to go and find Dominic's office.

"Sing to us!" the little one pleaded and I decided to comply. Thinking of a song was difficult, though, so I finally just had to translate a Christmas song into Italian.

I was very careful to keep my voice soft and low, to lull them to a faster sleep. "I have traveled many moonless nights. Cold and weary, with a babe inside. And I wonder what I've done. Holy Father, you have come. And chosen me now; to carry your son."

"I am waiting in a silent prayer. I am frightened, by the load I bear. In a world as cold as stone. Must I walk this path alone? Be with me now; be with me now."

"Breath of heaven hold me together. Be forever near me, breath of heaven. Breath of heaven lighten my darkness. Pour over me your holiness, for you are holy. Breath of heaven."

"Do you wonder, as you watch my face, if a wiser one should have had my place? But I offer all I am. For the mercy of your plan. Help me be strong; help me be strong. Help me."

"Breath of heaven hold me together. Be forever near me, breath of heaven. Breath of heaven lighten my darkness. Pour over me your holiness, for you are holy. Breath of heaven."

"Breath of heaven hold me together. Be forever near me, breath of heaven. Breath of heaven lighten my darkness. Pour over me your holiness, for you are holy. Breath of heaven."

Finally, I got them to close their eyes and go to sleep. Still, it had taken thirty minutes and I had no idea how long the copying would take, so I was afraid. First, I set the kids in the floor, using their coats as pillows for them. Then, I looked around to make sure no one was around and headed off to find Dominic's office. If I got caught, my excuse would be that I was looking for a bathroom, because no one had told me where one was.

Surprisingly enough, Joe and I had been right when we'd guessed where his office was. It was the room with the window that I had been planning to shoot through anyway. How lucky was I?

"I'm in," I said.

"Seriously?" Joe asked. "That didn't take long."

"I know," I said. "I'm a little surprised myself." I spotted the computer easily and took the copier out of my pocket. "Okay, I'm about to plug this in."

"Go for it," he said. "Be careful. It may take a while to copy everything."

"I know that," I said as I plugged it in. Immediately, the orange light began to flash. "It's copying," I said.

"Be careful," he warned.

"Maybe you should be telling the flash drive to hurry up," I mumbled. "This isn't my fault."

"I know," he said. "I'm just concerned. Hey, where's the office at?"

"Right where we said it was," I replied as I stood up and walked to the window. "Can you see me?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I can. Okay, brief me on security real fast."

It took me about twenty minutes to brief him on the cameras and the guards, and the drive still wasn't done copying. "Okay," he said. "Now give me the layout of the building."

That took thirty minutes and still, the drive wasn't done copying. "This is taking forever, Joe."

"It doesn't usually take this long," he admitted. "But remember, it won't be detected. The files on the computer are probably just encrypted and the drive is trying to break them down before it copies them."

"I hope so," I said.

"It won't be able to completely absolve them, though," he said. "I hope you like puzzles. Or are at least good at them."

I was, actually. I had gotten very good at puzzles and trivia during my high school years, but he wouldn't know that. He didn't need to know that I had stayed up late with him doing Sudokus and crossword puzzles or that we had watched _Jeopardy!_ together every time that it had come on, even if it was just a re-run.

"I'm okay at puzzles," I said.

"Good," he said. "I'm pretty good at them, too, but I'm sure we'll be able to figure them out. But, then again, you didn't exactly have a decoding class at your high school did you?"

"No," I answered, "I didn't. I guess you did?"

"Yeah," he replied. "All spies-slash-assassins have to know how to break encryptions."

"We had a class at Quantico," I said. "But it wasn't a big deal or anything. I don't even think that it was required; I just took it because it sounded fun. But they didn't delve too deep. After all, snipers aren't usually the ones that have to do this type of thing. We just pull a trigger."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "After watching you shoot, I have to say that I know it's more complicated than that."

I looked at the drive that was still blinking its orange light. "It's _still_ not done."

"The meeting should be over in like thirty minutes," he said, growing worried.

"At least the kids are asleep," I said. "They won't wake up for another hour."

"Good," he said, but he still sounded worried.

"We'll figure it out," I said. "Even a partial file is better than nothing."

For the next twenty minutes, I looked around the room, trying to see if he had left a paper trail of any sort. "There's nothing here," I said, exasperated. "Nothing at all. He keeps everything on his computer."

"There's nothing?"

"Not even a speck of dust," I replied.

"Cayden, you need to get out of there."

"I know," I said frustrated.

"You only have ten minutes."

"I know!" I growled. "Just give it five more minutes."

"Cayden, get out of there!"

"Hold on!" I said. The orange light was blinking faster. That had to mean something. Right?

"Cayden, get out!"

But I ignored him. The light just kept blinking faster and faster and faster. It was almost done copying.

"Come on," I muttered, egging it on. "Come on."

"Cayden, get out!"

And then the light turned red. "It's done!" I said with glee as I grabbed it and pocketed it. "I'm out of here."

"Hurry!"

I slipped out of the office and down the halls, careful not to leave any evidence behind. Then, I made it back to the waiting room, where the children were still sleeping peacefully. Everything had gone according to plan, even if it had been a little rushed towards the end.

I slowed my breathing to normal and picked up an Italian magazine that I pretended to read. It was a fashion magazine, not the type of thing that I liked to read. Well, not anymore. There had been a time – in high school – when I had read that type of magazine, even though sports had been my favorite thing. Nothing beat running up and down that field, the sunshine on my face, the wind ruffling my ponytail…

_Stop! Don't think about that! Ever! It was over a long time ago!_

The three men entered the room and I put down the magazine and stood up, smiling. "They fell right to sleep, the sweet ones."

He looked surprised. "I can never get them to fall asleep. Especially Zoë. You must be a miracle worker."

I laughed lightly. "No, sir. Just good at what I do." And I was…but what I did happened to not be babysitting. But he didn't need to know that.

He held out a brown envelope. "Your money."

"Thank you," I smiled and took the envelope. "Have a nice day, sir."

"You as well, miss."

One of the other men showed me out and then I walked along the street, feeling victorious. Joe fell into step beside me. "So you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Sorry I yelled at you," he apologized.

I shrugged. "I understand."


	23. To Puzzle

**To Puzzle**

_Joe_

"This is going to be fun," I muttered as we headed into the house.

"The encryptions have to be advanced," she said as she unlocked the house. "It took the flash drive forever to copy everything."

"And you have to remember that it tried to do some of the encrypting for us."

"That's true."

"Here's what we do," I said as we headed for the living room. "We try to figure it out, but if we can't, then we send it in to the CIA to try to figure it out for us."

"Send it?" she scoffed. "Like in the post office? Or should we just teleport it?"

"Do you know how to fly the helicopter that's out there?"

"Yeah," she said as she sat down on the couch. "Don't you?"

"Not really," I admitted as I grabbed the CIA issued laptop and sat down. "So, if we need to take it to the CIA, you can fly it there."

"Great," she muttered.

The computer turned on and we gave it a couple of minutes to warm up before we plugged in the drive and waited. Immediately, the screen went dark and then little gray dots moved on the screen. "That's what the drive already encrypted for us," I said. "Usually, the most complex encryptions are six levels."

"Yes, I know that," she said.

"It looks like it's done two for us already."

"That leaves four levels."

"Yes, I know," I teased. "I can do rudimentary math."

She rolled her eyes and pointed as something filled the screen. "Look."

It was a bunch of numbers, all in a row with a few letters thrown in, filling up the screen. "What is this?"

"I have no idea," she breathed.

"Great," I muttered. "We're already stuck."

"Hold on," she said. "Let's just go through the basics. Through every single thing that we could possibly do with these numbers."

I nodded. "Sounds like a plan. We can do the Nefario theory first."

Well, the Nefario theory didn't work. "Let's try something else," I suggested. "Any ideas?"

When she shook her head, I suggested, "The Clayman Theory?"

She shrugged. "Go for it."

I tried it but reached a dead end. As I was looking over at her, I noticed the expression on her face. She was looking at the screen, eyebrows scrunched together as if she were thinking very hard about something. And her head was tilted slightly to the left. "What is it?" I asked. "Do you have something?"

"What kind of schooling did Dominic have?" she asked.

"What?"

"Schooling," she repeated. "Did he go to college? Did he graduate high school?"

I recalled the files that I had read. "He didn't go to college but he did graduate high school. He was the best in his class, actually. But he didn't want to go to college because he knew that his father would die soon and he could take over the family business."

She nodded. "Was he good at chemistry?"

I shrugged. "Top of his class. I'm sure he was good at everything. What does chemistry have to do with anything?"

"Think about it," she reasoned as she re-fixed her hair into a neater ponytail. "He doesn't have a college education. The only thing that he knows is crime and what he learned in high school. And he went to a public school, right? He's not as highly educated as you and me. It's not going to be something complicated; it's going to be something easy that no one would ever think of."

She had a point. But… "Well, then, it's working because I don't understand any of this."

"It's chemistry," she said simply and gestured for me to hand her the laptop. I did. She pointed at the first few numbers. "One-s-two," she said. "Two-s-two, two-p-six."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, though it rang some kind of bell. "I mean, I know it's chemistry, but I usually only have to deal with chemistry when I'm making a bomb or-"

She cut me off. "Electron configurations," she said. "All of these are electron configurations. Look, every time it goes back to one-s-one, it's going back to the beginning and starting a new configuration."

"So the answer isn't a number," I summarized. "It's an element from the periodic table."

She nodded. "Exactly."

"God," I said. "It's been forever since I've had to use that."

"I still remember it," she said. "The first element is Tin." She typed in those three letters and, miraculously, the configuration for Tin disappeared from the screen.

"So all we have to do is type them in one by one and we're done?"

"We'll see," she said as she typed in the next one.

Turns out, she was right. We made it through to the next level within ten minutes. "Three levels left," she said as she handed the laptop back to me. This time, it just had a bunch of random words filling up the screen.

"What is _this_?" I asked, bewildered.

"Think in terms of high school," she said. "That's what he appears to be leaning towards."

"Because no one would think of that," I said and looked at the words. "Well, English is the class that deals with words the most."

"So are we supposed to put them in order?" she asked, staring closely. "I'm not sure that I recognize what this is supposed to be. It could be a passage from the most obscure book ever. How are we supposed to know what it is?"

"Hold on," I said, looking closely. I pointed to the word. "Look at that."

"Flagellate," she pronounced. "It means 'to be shaped like a flagellum'. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Look at how it's spelled," I pressed.

She looked closer and then seemed to realize it. "Oh. Flagellate is spelled with two ls. This word only has one."

I clicked on the word and it was instantly highlighted in blue. Then, I corrected the spelling, clicked enter, and that word fell away.

"So do they all have spelling errors?" she asked.

"I don't think so," I said. "Majestic is spelled correctly." I clicked on that word, spelled it like it was already spelled, and it fell away.

She nodded and then sighed and stood up. "I'll go get my dictionary."

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you travel with a dictionary?"

"The question is: why don't _you_?"

_Cayden_

Finally, we got all of the words spelled correctly and it moved on to the next screen. "What subject will it be this time," he mused.

"Well, we've done English and Science," I said. "And the computer has already done two levels. So, we have two levels left."

"I hope they did the math level," he said. "I hate math. But, then again, you have to be pretty good at math to be a sniper, don't you?"

"You have to be good at math to be an assassin, too," I said.

"True," he said. "I can do math, I just hate it."

"Well," I said. "Lucky for you, that doesn't look like math. Oh, wait, changed my mind."

It was, indeed, math. Numbers completely filled the screen and Joe and I stared at them, trying to figure it out. "Hmm…"

He snapped his fingers suddenly. "I've got it!"

"You do?"

He nodded and dragged his finger down a short line of numbers. "The square root of that is eight hundred and fifty-six." He highlighted the section he'd pointed to and typed in eight hundred and fifty-six. It cleared away.

"Brilliant," I said. "Now let's figure the rest out."

In no time, we had the rest of the puzzle solved. "Whew," he said. "At least we have the math part out of the way. What's the next part?"

"Dunno," I said, staring at the screen. "It still hasn't come up yet."

"Can't be too hard," he said. And then the screen came up and he read over it quickly before saying, "Never mind. I'm stumped."

I looked at the screen and felt my heart drop. Immediately, memories rushed to the front of my mind and I had to use all of my inner strength to push them away. But I couldn't; I just couldn't. I could see his face – the dark brown hair and the occasional stubble that he would let grow in. His eyes, almost the same shade of blue as mine, except with a little bit of gray mixed in. His high cheekbones and the scent of his cologne. The way that he commanded attention from everyone, even those with more authority than him. His self confidence…

"Cayden?"

I snapped back to the present and the memories finally abated, though I knew that they would come back. I knew what my dreams would be about tonight. "Yeah, sorry. What's up?"

"This looks like history," he said. "But I don't know… I'm usually good with history, but I don't like this. It's riddles and I'm not really sure…"

"How many riddles?" I asked.

"Three."

"Read the first one."

He complied, reading in his smooth voice. I closed my eyes to take it in. "July sixteenth, nineteen forty-two. But no one remembers except the ones it happened to."

"July sixteenth nineteen forty-two," I whispered.

"Columbus," he started, but stopped. "Oh, that was _fourteen ninety-two_. Um…geez. That's an exact date, too. Any ideas?"

"Yeah," I said softly, the gears turning in my mind. I smelled coffee and heard the laughter of kids out in the hallway. "It's the Vel' d'Hiv Roundup."

"Didn't that happen in France?" he asked.

I nodded. "On July sixteenth and seventeenth of nineteen forty-two."

"Spell it," he requested and I did.

And we were right. That riddle disappeared.

"Two more," he said. "Want me to read the next one?"

I closed my eyes again. "Bring it on."

"For twenty-seven years, this war went on. But in the end, nobody won."

I was quiet, the answer coming to the front of my mind. I remembered it very clearly. I remembered that exact day in class.

"There were a lot of wars that lasted about that long," he said. "How are we supposed to-"

I cut him off. "The Peloponnesian War. It was fought between the Spartans and the Athenians. And no one ever won."

He typed it in and that one disappeared. He looked over at me. "That high school of yours must have taught you well. It would have taken me at least ten minutes to come up with that answer."

I gave him a small smile, even though I could feel the pain inside of me, choking me. I hated having to do this. But sometimes, you have to do things that hurt you. "Next riddle."

He looked back at the screen and I closed my eyes, waiting.

"If you wanted to race her in times of old, you'd need some apples made of gold."

I knew that one without even having to give any kind of thought to it. But I kept my eyes closed because if I opened them, I knew that tears would spill out. It was like Dominic knew that it would be me that would have to answer these questions. It was like he'd made them for me. But, I knew that he hadn't. I was just the most unlucky person in the universe.

God, it hurt. It hurt me so much.

"Cayden?" Joe asked. "I have no idea on this one. I've tried thinking of racecars, but I don't have anything. The apples of gold just doesn't make any sense to me. Any ideas?"

But I was lost in the times when everything had been so easy for me. The times before I had become a killer; before I'd had my heart broken into millions of pieces. My eyes flew open. "Atalanta. The answer is Atalanta." And it was all I could do to spell it before I fled the room, the tears finally running down my face.


	24. To Remember

**Hey, guys, I've updated a lot today, but thats because my private school is about to send a few select students on an educational trip and I'm one of them! So, I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again after tomorrow. I debated putting this chapter up, but I got good reviews so I'm going for it. Happy reading!**

**To Remember**

_Joe_

"Cayden?" I knocked on her door, still shocked by the way that she had run out of the room after giving me the last answer. "Cayden, we solved it. We have access to the files now."

But she said nothing. I almost suspected she was crying, just from the way that she had fled from the room. I knocked again. "Cayden, are you okay?"

Nothing.

I sighed, not knowing what to do. Obviously, I wanted to know what was wrong, but something told me that she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Something told me that she just wanted to be left alone. I knocked one more time. "Cayden, I'm gonna go downstairs now, okay? If you need me just come and get me."

And then I went back downstairs and to the computer, even though I wanted nothing more than to be with Cayden, holding her in my arms and telling her that it was going to be okay. It had to be okay.

_Cayden_

The memories kept pressing at my mind, demanding attention. And after a while, I just got sick of trying to fight them. So, I finally let go.

"_Coach?"_

_He looked up from his desk and smiled when he saw me. "Hey, Atalanta. How's it going?"_

"_I finally figured out who Atalanta is," I said. "I looked her up."_

"_And?"_

"_An Arcadian princess that was often described as a goddess. A fierce hunter who was always happy and took an oath of virginity to Artemis." I recited what I had read when I'd researched Atalanta the night before. "When her father wanted her to marry, she said that she would only marry the man that beat her in a footrace. After many lost, a man named Melanion got Aphrodite's help to beat her by tossing out golden apples to distract her. So, they married, had a son, and were turned into lions eventually."_

_Coach's smile widened and he sat on top of one of the desks. "And why were they turned into lions?"_

"_Well, there are contradicting theories," I replied as I sauntered over to the poster of Alexander the Great. "Some say that Zeus did it when they made love in his temple. Others say that Aphrodite did it. I guess no one knows for sure, and it's not real anyway, so…"_

_I heard Coach's laugh. "You don't like your nickname?"_

"_I guess I just want to know why that's what you chose," I answered, turning to face him._

"_You can't see yourself on that field, Aidan," Coach said. "But, man, I wish you could. It's amazing. You run so fast that you're impossible to catch and you _are_ fierce. I took a year-long course in college over Greek mythology and you just…remind me of Atalanta."_

"_Is that a good thing?"_

_He grinned. "Absolutely. As long as you don't, ya know, get caught having sex in Zeus' temple and get turned into a lion. We need you for state."_

"_I'm a freshman," I said with a laugh._

"_And yet," he said. "You're the best one on that team. Maybe in the state."_

"_Do you really mean that?" I asked, honored._

_He nodded soberly. "Yeah, I really do, Atalanta."_

I didn't want to remember anything else. I was already crying. But there were many more memories that pressed for my attention.

_A freshman was in playing and she didn't know where to go. In the confusion, she collided with me and we fell. I caught her and managed to pass the ball, which was always – to me, anyway – the important thing. _

_The play continued and the freshman apologized profusely over and over again, but I could barely hear her words over the pain. _

_Coach stopped practice and told the girls to go shower up and go home, and then he came over to me. I sat up and was about to try to get up, but he put a hand on my shoulder and held me down. "Hold on a second, Atalanta. That looked like it hurt."_

"_I'm fine," I said, but traitor tears stung at my eyes. _

"_Let me take a look," he whispered. "Where does it hurt the most?"_

"_My shoulder," I whispered. "I twisted it when I landed."_

_He nodded and reached for it. "I'm gonna have to move your shirt a little bit, okay?"_

_I nodded and he gently moved the sleeve up, his fingers like gentle butterfly kisses against my skin. He probed it gently and then said, "It's a little out of place. I can pop it back in if you want, or we can take you to the ER and have them do it there."_

"_I'd rather not spend an hour in the waiting room," I replied. "Just do it." _

"_Okay," he said. "And then we'll go in and get some ice. You ready? It's gonna hurt."_

_I nodded and grit my teeth. "Just do it."_

_He rolled me gently onto my stomach and in an instant, he popped it back into place. Stars danced before my eyes, but I didn't cry out. And then, I rolled back over and sat up and when the stars cleared, I could see his face, his beautiful blue-gray eyes. All of the girls in school had crushes on him, that's why some of them had joined the soccer team. "Are you alright?" he asked._

_I nodded my head. "It's better now, but it still stings."_

_He must have seen the look in my eyes; he must have known. He bent his head slightly and pressed his lips softly to my shoulder. Then, he drew away so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it. But, no, it had been too real. "Better?" he whispered. _

_I nodded, speechless. _

Stop. Stop. Stop. But I couldn't; the memories, they wouldn't.

"_You do realize that we have a game at seven in the morning?"_

_I whirled around in the sand and saw Coach standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I couldn't sleep," I admitted. "Don't worry, Coach; I'll be ready for the game."_

"_You always are," he said as he came to stand beside me. We looked out over the water, the gently rolling tide, and he said, "You know what this reminds me of?"_

"_What?" I asked._

"_The poem _Annabel Lee_." _

"_Edgar Allen Poe," I said._

_He nodded and began to recite it. And I listened, captivated by his words. When he finished, he looked over at me, smiled. "You know, that poem also reminds me of you. About how we're not supposed to fall in love with certain people, but we do anyway. I'm not sure you can help who you fall in love with."_

"_That can't be me, Coach," I whispered. "I'm not good enough. I'm just…"_

"_Don't say that," he said. "You _are_ good enough. Is it the age thing that freaks you out?"_

"_You're only eight years older," I said. "And I know that's supposed to be a big deal when you're young, but my parents are ten years apart, so…"_

"_Then what is it?" he asked, reaching out to touch my face._

""_I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "This all just feels like a dream. Or like a puzzle that I can't quite figure out."_

"_Then let me help fill in the pieces," he whispered before he pressed his lips to mine. _

Coach wasn't a pedophile and I know that most people balk at relationships like that. They say "it's so wrong!" or "he should know better!" But let me tell you, you don't really know until you've been there. You don't know what it's like to be that in love with someone and have to hide it. You don't know what we were feeling. So don't judge. Don't ever judge.

_My first time was with him. It was in the locker rooms and I knew that it wasn't the most romantic place in the world to anyone else, but it felt like it to me. And Coach was gentle and he asked me ten times if I was sure that I wanted to do this. And I was. I had never been so sure of anything in my life._

"_I love you," he whispered afterwards. _

"_I love you, too," I replied. _

_He kissed my forehead. "And you're sure that you're okay?"_

"_Yes," I smiled. "I'm okay."_

"_You're not worried?"_

"_We were careful."_

"_Stuff happens," he said._

_I shrugged. "I've been taking birth control for a while now. Mom said it was a good idea to 'regulate my cycle'." _

_He smiled. "Thank God for that."_

_I chuckled and he pulled me closer. "You know," I said, "You're the one that should be worried. If anyone ever finds out…"_

"_They shouldn't," he said. "And it's worth it, to be with you. God, how did all this happen?"_

"_I don't know," I admitted. "I really don't."_

_He kissed me and held me all night long, and we talked about anything and everything, even though I already knew almost everything about him. The important stuff, anyway. Like the fact that he had come from a rich family and that he loved history more than any other subject, which is why he had chosen to teach that. The reason that he hadn't played for the National Team in soccer was because he didn't want to, not because he wasn't good enough. His collarbone had been smashed too many times; the doctor had said that it was a huge risk to keep playing and he had listened. _

_He loved me – and that was the most important fact of all._

God, why now? Don't let this happen. Please just stop. I don't want to remember. I want to forget it all!

But did I? Did I really?

_He opened the door and when he saw me, he was instantly concerned. "Aidan, it's two in the morning. What's wrong?"_

_I rushed into his arms and he shut the door to his apartment so that no one could eavesdrop. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"_

"_I'm pregnant," I sobbed. "I forgot to take my pills because I was so wrapped up in training for the National Team and I'm pregnant!"_

_I could feel his arms tighten around me and he pulled me into the living room and sat on the couch with me, letting me cry against him. He whispered that it was going to be okay and I knew it was, but I was scared to tell him why._

_Finally, I pulled away from him. "There's something that I have to tell you."_

_His face suddenly drained of color and I realized what he thought. "No, no, no." I said quickly. "It's yours; I promise."_

_He gave me a small smile. "Just making sure. Aidan, it's going to be okay."_

"_I know," I said and I took a breath. "Because I'm getting an abortion."_

_He didn't speak for a full minute. "Aidan…are you sure?"_

_I nodded vigorously. "I don't need my parents' consent or anything. I already scheduled it and-"_

"_Wait," he said, holding up his hands. "Did you think this through? Didn't you even think to ask me?"_

"_Why would you want a kid right now?" I asked. "We can't have a kid. Everyone will find out about us and you could get fired."_

"_Aidan," he said. "I have job offers everywhere. I have over a million dollars in the bank from my parents' death. And you're almost eighteen anyway. We can run. We can-"_

"_I want this abortion," I said, tears filling my eyes. "Please…Don't fight me on this. I can't keep this kid. I'm going to play for the National Team next year and I just can't…Please."_

_He pulled me into his arms so that I wouldn't see his tears. But I knew they were there. "Okay," he said. "Okay." But I had a feeling that it wasn't really what he wanted. I knew that he was only giving in because it was me; because he loved me._

Our child would have been seven years old, I realized as I laid in the bed, exhausted from the memories. And then, I began to cry harder.


	25. To Tell

Thanks SOOOOO much to spygirl102! And the rest of you that gave POLITE reviews. I appreciate ya!

**To Tell**

_Cayden_

I knew that I didn't have to tell Joe. I could have just pretended that I was really tired. Which was true, actually – I had fallen asleep for several hours. I could have not talked about it at all. I could have faked stupid when he asked me what was wrong. I could have gone on and pretended like I was okay; like nothing had ever happened. But he wasn't stupid. _It's not really any of his business…_

But I decided that I was through hiding my past from him. He'd been nothing but sweet to me, and he deserved the truth. So, I washed my face to get rid of the tear trails and I changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt before refixing my hair into a ponytail and opening my door. It took a surprising amount of courage to walk down those stairs and not rush back into my room and lock the door and bury myself under the covers.

Even though it was two in the morning, Joe was still up, staring at the computer screen, going through files. He looked up when I came in and said, "Hey. You okay?"

I sighed. "There are some things that you should know, if you want to date me. I mean, you are dating me…but if you want this to be serious."

He nodded and set the computer aside. "Go ahead."

I sat down on the lounge chair and sighed. "What did you find in the files?"

"The plan for Saudi Arabia," he said. "They're going to try to kidnap an American ambassador in March. I sent the info to Langley. I'm not sure what they'll do about it…maybe just not send the ambassador at all."

"Good," I nodded. "That's good."

He looked at me closely, concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just listen," I whispered. And I took a breath. And then another, trying to find my voice. "That class that I got a D in was AP World History. Well, actually, every class was AP at my school, but still…"

He gestured to the computer, confused. "But you just got all of those questions right."

"I know," I said. "I got a D that second semester on purpose. I was going to fail, but then I would have had to take summer classes and I didn't want the hassle. I was a senior and I needed to get graduation over with."

"Why would you get a bad grade on purpose?" he asked, confused.

"For the same reason that I quit the soccer team."

"You played soccer?" he asked, surprised.

I nodded and took a few moments to catch my breath and blink back tears. God, why was I so emotional about this?

Finally, I said, "Yes; I played soccer. I was good, actually. Right after high school, I was going to play for the National Team. They had begged me to join the team before, even when I was in high school, but I put it off. You asked what I did in high school if I wasn't the chess club president. Well, I was valedictorian and I played soccer. Both of which I forfeited."

"Why?" he asked.

"I had a teacher," I said. "His name was…" I choked up a little bit. "His name was Jack McBradden. He was my world history teacher my senior year and also my soccer coach from grades nine through twelve, up until I quit."

"What happened to him?"

I took a breath. "This is a long story, Joe."

He looked at his watch. "Well, we have…" Then, he looked up at me. "Two weeks. So get started."

I drew my knees up to my chest and sighed. "He was a new coach when I had first started the school as a freshman. He was young – only twenty-two – but he had gone through some really advanced courses to get his PhD in history and teach at our private school. And they got him to coach soccer because the other coach was getting on in years and, as it turns out, Jack McBradden had been a star soccer player. He could have played for the National Team if he had wanted to."

"So he was your favorite teacher?" he asked, listening carefully and keeping his eyes on me.

I nodded. "Yeah; he was _everyone's_ favorite teacher. Hands down; there was no contest. He was funny when he taught, whereas most of the other teachers were monotone old people that didn't have lives apart from teaching. He was vibrant and his classes were the most sought after. Of course, I didn't get to get in any of his classes until I was a junior, when he taught a couple of classes of AP US History. In fact, I don't think that he had a planning period that year. Everyone wanted to be in his classes."

I took a breath before I could go on. "And it was the same story on the soccer field. We won every single game and a state championship that first year. The way that he coached was so smart… He could demo all of the moves and he really knew what he was talking about. He knew every player; he knew what needed to be done. Of course, we had _those _kinds of girls, too…"

"What kind?" he asked.

Shelby Carlton, Rachel Gladd, Emily Vance… "The girls that only got into soccer because of Coach."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, they liked the way that he looked. They thought he was hot. Everyone did. You should have seen some of the notes that were passed around. Girls wanted to marry him, for Christ's sake. It was all any of the girls in the school could talk about. So, some girls signed up for soccer because they thought maybe that was the way to get him to fall for them. Of course, they got out pretty quickly because soccer was way harder than they had thought that it would be."

"So he was the kind of guy that girls fawned over?" he asked.

I gave him a small smile. "I bet you're used to that, huh?"

He chuckled. "Continue."

I took another breath. "Anyway, he was everybody's favorite everything. You could probably go back to that school and ask a student who the best teacher to ever walk those halls is and they would probably still tell you that it's Dr. McBradden. People probably still talk about him, though I'm not sure that it would all be good…"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked me, leaning forward slightly, entranced.

I fought back the tears and the memories. And then, I said, "He fell in love with a student and then he committed suicide after he left the school."

"Did the school fire him or did he quit?"

"I don't know," I said. "And I'm not sure that anyone does aside from the principal at the time, Dr. Drake."

"He committed suicide?" he asked softly. He thought that he knew; he thought that I was still upset because Dr. McBradden had been like a father to me – my favorite teacher. He thought that I had just been through trauma then. He thought that he knew – but he didn't. "Was that just so that he wouldn't have to go to prison?"

I shook my head. "No. The girl that he was with was eighteen by the time that anyone found out."

"So it had been going on for a while?" he asked.

I nodded. "She was on the soccer team and it had been going on for a couple of years."

"And no one noticed?" he asked, surprised.

I shook my head. "No one. Everybody was too busy fantasizing about him."

"She was on the soccer team…" he said. "Did you know her?"

I nodded and blinked back tears. "Yeah, I did. I do."

"What was her name?" he asked gently.

"Her name was Aidan Smith," I said softly. I took a breath. "But she moved out of town as soon as she graduated. She left and no one ever heard from her again."

"Did she commit suicide?" he asked.

"No."

"But wait," he said, confused. "You said that no one ever heard form her again…"

"They didn't," I said and I finally looked at him as a tear fell. "She changed her name to Cayden Sanders."

_Joe_

I was completely frozen for a minute. And Cayden – or maybe Aidan – waited patiently, her eyes never leaving mine. Finally, I said, "So your real name is Aidan Smith?"

"Only if you choose to look at it that way."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sighed. "I'm not Aidan Smith anymore. I've been Cayden Sanders for a little over six years now. I'd like to think that that's who I am now."

"But your name, at birth, was Aidan Smith?"

"Yes," she nodded.

I took that in. "So, would you like me to call you Aidan?"

"No," she said and another tear fell, leaving me with the urge to kiss it away. "My name is Cayden."

I nodded slowly and shifted on the couch. "So, you left because…because you loved him?"

She thought about it for a minute. "Not really. I left because I couldn't be there anymore. Because he had completely changed me and without him…I just wasn't me anymore. I had to find a new me. So, I changed my identity and went to the academy at Quantico."

"How did you change your identity?"

"Come on," she rolled her eyes. "I'm a mega-genius. I found someone that had died recently that was around my age and had my hair and eye color. It was lucky, really. Not too hard to destroy the birth certificate."

"So, he committed suicide."

"I'm not sure I believe that," she whispered. "He would have found a way to tell me goodbye."

"So what do you think happened?"

She looked down at her knees. "I think my dad killed him."

"Your dad?"

"He was the one that found the body," she explained. "How convenient is that? And he was a cop; no one would have suspected him. And I knew that he wanted him dead. I heard him talking about it on the phone one night."

"How did your dad even find out?"

More tears fell from her eyes but she looked right at me. "One of the sergeants, Ted Newman, his wife saw me at Planned Parenthood. And Coach was with me. And she found out what I was there for."

"What were you there for?" I asked. "Birth control?"

She shook her head. "I had already been on birth control."

"Oh no…" I breathed.

She nodded her head as more tears fell. "You don't understand; I couldn't have that baby. The National Team was recruiting me – I was going to go to their camp in less than a year, be a part of their team. I was going to play in the Olympics and I couldn't have a kid. I thought…" she choked up and put a hand over her mouth. I wanted to go and comfort her, but I was frozen. "I thought that we would have time to have another kid together," she whispered. "He didn't really want me to have the abortion, but he agreed for me. I'm sure that he thought we had more time, too."

"So, this thing with him…" I took a breath. "It wasn't just a fling?"

She shook her head. "It was the most real kind of love that I had ever felt."

"Do you still love him?"

"Yes," she admitted and my heart fell. "But what good does that do me if he's six feet under?"

"I don't think you can ever stop loving your first love," I said quietly. Not that I would know. I had never fallen in love with someone before Cayden came along.

She nodded. "Me either. But I think that you can love again."

I looked at her and gave her a smile. "Do you think that you could fall in love with me?"

And my heart soared when she said, "I think I already am."


	26. To Catch

**To Catch**

_Joe_

She was breathing steadily in my arms, but I didn't know if she was asleep. "Cayden," I whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," she whispered back. "I'm kind of lost in memories and it's making it hard to sleep."

"Tell me more," I whispered.

"I told you the story," she said, sounding confused.

"No," I said. "Tell me more about Jack."

She sat up and looked at me, her eyes seeming to glow in the dark. "Why do you want to hear about him?"

I reached up and touched her face. "I want to know everything about you. And he was a part of you for a few years. And maybe it'll help take your mind off of things. Talking helps."

She sighed and settled back into my arms. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Then I'll ask questions," I said simply. "How tall was he?"

"Six-two."

My height. "Why didn't he play for the National Team, if he was so good?"

"First of all, don't say _if_ he was so good. He was good. _Really_ good. And he didn't go because he had to make a choice. He'd already smashed his collarbone a number of times and he always played before it was completely healed. The doctor told him that he needed to make a choice and he made the one that left him completely able-bodied. He still played soccer with us, though. He never hesitated to demo a move. He told me once that coaching soccer was the only reason he could deal with not playing anymore. Because he could be out there with us."

"Was he right handed or left?"

"Right," she said. "But in soccer, he usually led with the left. I mean, he favored his left side and his left leg when he was shooting."

"When did you two…when was your first time?" I asked.

I half expected her to say that it was none of my business, but she answered. Talking really was helping her. "December first of my junior year," she said. "Soccer season was almost over; we were getting ready to go play at Nationals."

"Where?" I asked, hoping that she knew what I meant.

"Nationals was in Denver, Colorado that year," she answered. "But we were in the locker rooms, if that's what you were asking."

"Weren't there other people around?"

She shook her head. "When I was a freshman, Coach gave me a copy of the key to the locker rooms. I'd go there late at night to practice sometimes, if I was having trouble sleeping. We went there sometimes late at night. Sometimes he would come just to help me with a new soccer move or watch me practice. But then after we started…he usually came to meet me so that we could…Just a changeup, you know? So that we weren't meeting at his apartment all the time."

"Was he your first?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Any since him?"

"No," she said.

"What was his favorite TV show?" I asked.

"_Jeopardy!_" she replied and I could hear the smile in her voice. "He was a genius, had a real knack for trivia. He said that when he was younger, when he wasn't playing soccer, he was reading history books. And then it turned into any book that he could get his hands on and eventually he just became a trivia guru. He answered every single question before the contestant could. I remember how hard I used to study to try to beat him…" She laughed. "It never did me any good. But sometimes he'd let me win."

"Did he have a favorite type of music?"

"He had a top ten songs list," she replied. "He listened to almost everything. Classical the most probably. He told me that it was because after a full day of having obnoxious kids in a classroom, it helped to relax him."

"Is that why you're such an expert on classical music?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Sort of. But remember the fact about the _Winter Wonderland_ song?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"That came from him. Most of my random trivia does."

"So what was his top ten songs list?" I asked.

"_Remember the Name_ by Fort Minor was probably his favorite," she said. "He said that was the motto that soccer players needed to live by."

"How's it go?" I asked.

"The part that we need to live by goes: This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, fifteen percent concentrated power of will. Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain and a hundred percent reason to remember the name."

"Hmm…" I said. "Was it a rap song?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"So what are the others?"

"He liked _Bohemian Rhapsody_ by Queen. He'd walk around all of the time singing that song. And _Hello_ by Lionel Richie. _Losing My Religion_; he wasn't religious either. He's the reason that I say that God's love is supposed to be unconditional, but it's really not. And then_ Sympathy for the Devil _by the Rolling Stones; he sang that one a lot in class while we were trying to finish a quiz. _When You Love Someone_ by Bryan Adams. _In the Air Tonight_ by Phil Collins._ Lady is a Tramp_ by Frank Sinatra. _ABC_ by Jackson5. And _From This Moment On_; we sang that as a duet. We sang it really well, actually."

I gave her a moment to think and then I said, "What kind of vehicle did he drive?"

"He drove a fairly new Volvo. His parents were really rich. Well…technically, _he_ was. They died and left him all of their money."

"How did they die?"

"His mom died of cancer," she answered. "And his dad had a heart attack a few years later. Jack always said that he didn't really believe that it was a heart attack. He just believed that his dad had missed her for too long and his heart had finally given up."

"Oh. And they were rich?"

She nodded against my chest. "His mom came from really old money and his dad was CEO of a major cooperation, but he never told me which one. He wasn't too fond of his dad."

I kissed her hair softly. "When was his birthday?"

"The same day as mine," she said softly.

"Really?" I asked, surprised. How often do two people fall in love that have the exact same birthday?

She exhaled a small laugh. "Yeah. We found that out my freshman year and I always thought that it was kind of funny."

"So, when is it?"

"February twenty-fifth," she replied.

"Did he have any siblings?"

"No," she said. "His mom was pregnant with another child when he was fourteen, but that's when they found out about her cancer and the baby didn't make it."

"Did he ever get detention?" Part of me was kind of hoping that she wouldn't be able to answer one of these questions. Part of me was selfishly hoping that she didn't know him perfectly.

"Yeah," she said. "They had a substitute teacher and to throw things away, they tossed them into the trash can instead of getting up and throwing them away. So, the sub said that that was fine, but whoever missed first would get noon detention. And right when he had to throw it, he sneezed."

I chuckled. "Talk about bad luck."

"Yeah," she said.

I knew that I had to keep her talking. It was helping. "What was his favorite kind of food?"

"Italian, probably," she said. "He liked all types of food. Especially my cinnamon rolls, which I made him at least once a month. He always claimed that I was going to make him fat. Like he could ever get fat."

"He was trim?"

"He was fit," she corrected. "He worked out every morning and then with us on the soccer field every day."

"What was his favorite type of history to teach?"

"World history," she said. "And you could tell. I mean, he was really animated during US history, too, but world history was like a totally different ballgame."

"So, his classes were your favorite?"

"His classes were everyone's favorite."

"Were you his first?"

"No," she said. "And he never hid that from me. There had been a couple in college, but he said that they didn't mean anything to him. Just flings. But I was something else."

"Did he have a favorite quote?" I asked.

"Not really," she answered. "He had tons of quotes stored up in that huge brain of his. But, when he came into class every day, he would start by saying, 'Ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages…Aidan'." She inhaled. "And he liked to say, 'Thank you, Captain Obvious. No, wait. You don't deserve the rank of captain. I'm demoting you. You are now _Private_ Obvious'."

"So, he was funny?"

"He was hilarious," she corrected. "He liked to quote Looney Tunes. That sounds strange, doesn't it? A grown man watching Looney Tunes? But he had _so_ many DVDs and we'd watch them together at his apartment…"

"How did your parents not get suspicious?" I asked.

"My mom was the head ER nurse and my dad was a police officer that worked a lot of nights; they didn't talk to me much. But I wasn't around them much, either. You have to remember, it was a boarding school."

"Oh, yeah," I said, feeling stupid. "Did anyone suspect anything?"

"No."

"How did you get off campus?"

"It wasn't too hard," she said. "It's not like they had security. And my roommate got kicked out my sophomore year and I never got another one, so…"

"But didn't they have room checks?"

"Nope," she said.

"Did your parents ever come and see you at school?"

"A few times," she said. "They came to only one game; I was a freshman then."

"How far away did they live?"

"Not too far," she admitted. "Twenty minutes or so."

"So, your dad had jurisdiction there?"

"Now, that's a tricky subject," she said. "There's a whole other story with that. He just found the body; and that was tricky enough."

"Okay," I said. "I'll leave it alone. Next question: Did you ever tell anyone about you and him?"

"No," she said. "No one knew except for me and him."

"Do you regret your abortion?" I asked.

She sighed. "Well, that's a tricky one. The reason that I got the abortion in the first place was because I was about to go and play for the National Team – which obviously didn't happen. But I thought that we could have another one later. And we didn't ever get to. So…I don't know. But he would be seven right now."

"He?" I questioned gently.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I always imagined it as a boy. I guess it could have been a girl."

"Would you have married him?"

"Yes," she replied. "If he had asked me, I would have. We talked about it a couple of times – about getting married after I graduated. He could have found a job teaching and coaching anywhere. And I could have been playing for the National Team."

"Do you still think about him?"

She sighed, her breath warm against my skin. "I try not to. But sometimes, it just happens. Like when I was in Brazil on a mission and I saw a kid playing soccer. Or when I moved to a new residence and found the box of notes that he had written and used to leave in my locker right before we all came in to change before practice. Or I'll smell the cologne that he used to wear or the phone will ring and I'll flash back to the times when it would ring and I knew that it was him calling. There are times…"

I nodded slowly and then kissed her hair. "Aidan McBradden," I mused. "That could be your name right now if things had worked out the way that you wanted them to."

"Maybe it happened for a reason," she said softly, as if she wasn't sure that she wanted to say it out loud. "Maybe it happened so that I could meet you. After all, if things had gone the way that I had wanted them to, then I would be playing soccer for the National Team. I wouldn't be a sniper."

"Well, then, thank God," I said and tilted my head to kiss her lips.

And the way that she kissed me back made me think: _I've finally caught her._


	27. To Keep

**To Keep**

_Cayden_

Christmas was fast approaching, and I didn't know whether to be happy or sad about it. On one hand, Christmas had been a sad time for me ever since I'd lost Jack. On the other hand, I had Joe now. I felt something for Joe, and it scared me because it was similar to what I had felt for Jack. But I kept thinking, _What if I lose Joe just like I lost Jack? I can't let it happen again; I can't let myself fall._

But I was already falling, and there was no way that I could stop it. It was uncontrollable and powerful and I found myself giving into it, even as I told myself no. It was just as strong as it had been for Jack. And maybe that was part of it. Maybe I felt like I was betraying Jack by loving Joe. But I knew that Jack wanted me to be happy. He always wanted nothing more than for me to be happy. He'd told me so countless times.

Joe. Jack. Joe. It made my head hurt. I loved Jack and I knew that I always would, but I loved Joe, too, even though I'd never told him that. But what was I waiting for? It's not like I didn't know that he loved me, too. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He did. He was just waiting to say it until I did because he didn't want to freak me out and make me push him away.

I had left him sleeping in bed so that I could come to the kitchen and think all of this through. But the stuff that passed through my mind only succeeded in giving me a major headache. It was random stuff, like CIA training and my old soccer playing days. Stuff like the last time that I had seen my parents and the last time that Jack and I had kissed.

And the fact that I had never visited Jack's grave. I had wanted to, but I couldn't. I couldn't force myself to go and see his body and I couldn't force myself to go and see his grave. I didn't want to remember him like that. I wanted to remember him as the vibrant, outgoing teacher and the gentle, passionate lover that he had been. But sometimes, I felt guilty. _He would have visited my grave, if it had been the other way around…_

Arms wrapped around me and Joe kissed my cheek. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'll take no less than a dime," I said.

"Sold."

I smiled. "It was about Jack. My thoughts, I mean." I didn't mention that they had been about him as well.

He kissed my cheek again. "What about Jack, exactly?"

Joe had taken all of this in stride, and I was very impressed by him. It had to be hard for him to hear about Jack. "Just about how I never went to visit his grave."

"Do you want to?" he asked me. "We can go there after all of this is over; after we've debriefed and everything. We'll have a break for a while, and we can go."

I turned in his arms, raising an eyebrow. "You mean it?"

"Of course," he said as he kissed my forehead. He looked into my eyes and smiled. "If you want to, then we'll go."

"You're being a surprisingly good sport about all of this," I noted.

He shrugged. "There's no reason not to be."

I smiled and pressed my lips quickly to his. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he grinned and reached around me to grab a muffin from the pan. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"I have to run into town," I said. "I won't be long; I just want to grab a few ingredients for the Christmas dinner that I'm planning."

"Sounds delicious," he said. "Can I come?"

I laughed and moved around him to clean up the muffin pan. "Why don't you stay here?"

"Why?" he groaned.

"I don't need to trip over you at the grocery store," I laughed. "And I promise, I'll be more careful this time and not accept jobs from random men."

"I appreciate that," he said with a smile as he polished off his muffin. When he had swallowed, he said, "So, what's for dinner on Christmas?"

"It'll be more lunch," I admitted. "And we can have leftovers for dinner."

"What about breakfast?"

"We'll make cinnamon rolls, if you want."

"Of course I want," he said.

I laughed. "Good. Okay, I think I'm going to go now."

"Wait," he said and grabbed my arm.

"What?" I laughed.

He pulled me close to him and kissed me, one hand tangling in my straightened hair and the other on my hip. My hands rested on his chest, feeling the subtle muscle beneath the T-shirt that he had slept in.

The kiss lasted a long time and when he finally pulled away, I was completely breathless. And he knew it. He grinned cockily at me. "You should probably grab a coat. It's going to snow really hard."

I nodded and moved for the stairs to go and grab a coat. Once I had one on, I came back down the stairs and said, "Okay, now can I leave?"

He chuckled and gestured for the door. "Be my guest. Are you sure you don't need me to come?"

"No," I said. "You're not a necessity."

He pouted and I laughed. He smiled. "Drive safely."

"Always," I said and then left, shutting the door behind me.

_Joe_

After she was gone, I grabbed another muffin and headed into the living room to play around on the Internet. After all, the CIA hadn't exactly given us a great choice of movies. I had either seen or didn't want to see all of them. And, besides, I didn't want to watch a movie unless Cayden was watching it with me.

The Internet came up and I wondered what I was going to do. There wasn't really anything that I needed to look up and I'd never been the type to be into computer games. Actually, I'd never really been into any kind of electronic game. I felt that they sucked brain cells away. I'd never been the type of kid to want to sit in front of the TV for hours on end. I wanted to be outside doing something active. My body needed the activity. And so did my brain. Video games had the capability to bore me to death.

But, there were a couple of things that I could think of…like checking out this Aidan Smith online. It wasn't like I was invading into Cayden's private life – she'd already told me about her past. She wasn't hiding it anymore. And, plus, it would only be too easy with the CIA computer's capabilities.

So, I typed in Aidan Smith and then added her birthday – February 25 – just to make sure that I got the right one. And almost immediately, there was a list of places I could go. So, I just clicked on the first one. It was a newspaper article from what would have been Aidan's senior year. The headline read: _Soccer Wonder Saves Team From Defeat. _I read the whole article and saw a couple of shots of Aidan – Cayden – playing soccer. And from what I could tell, she looked good.

I read a few more articles after that, each time being impressed by some game-saving goal that she had made or reports from scouts that had offered her a full ride scholarship to play at that college. And then, in one article, I found a paragraph that I reread at least seven times, maybe more, I wasn't really sure.

_Coach Jack McBradden states: "Aidan Smith is one of those really rare players. The type of girl that you can find practicing on the field during a holiday or encouraging her teammates when they're all worn down. I don't think I've ever seen someone with as much talent on the soccer field as Aidan has. She's a wonder to watch on that field and I'm honored to be her coach." _

I wondered if the reporters had ever suspected – when they'd heard him talk about her – that he was in love with her. Or had he managed to mask it well? I decided that they hadn't suspected, otherwise the truth would have been revealed a lot sooner.

Jack McBradden.

On impulse, I typed his name into the system. After all, if we were going to visit his grave, we needed to know where the grave was actually located. So, it took a moment to load and then I got a few hits. First, there were his records from college soccer and his refusal to enter the National Team. So Cayden had been right; he had been good enough to get into the National Team, he just hadn't wanted to.

Was that fate? Just like I thought that it was fate that Cayden and I had been paired on the mission? Was it fate that he had declined the offer to play soccer professionally? Was it fate that he had taken a job at the place where Cayden – Aidan – happened to attend school? Were they meant to be together just as I thought that Cayden and I were meant to be together?

The next parts interested me, though. The second part was about his time at the private school, which happened to be the most prestigious private school in the country. (Well, except for maybe Gallagher and Blackthorne. But I had my suspicions that it might have been just as prestigious on the actual learning aspect, without the martial arts and the tailing classes.) Graduating from that school meant an automatic full ride to any Ivy League school. And teaching there was hard, too. Competitive. And as it turns out, Jack McBradden was very competitive, and not only on the soccer field. He'd gotten his PhD after rigorous courses that allowed him to get it at an unusually young age. And even though his family was richer than the Rockefellers, he had gone to college on a scholarship, both athletic and academic.

But the third part was the part that really interested me. Well, actually, it shocked me.

Because Jack McBradden was still alive.

He was living in New Hampshire and though I couldn't find anything about where he was working, I could see that he owned a house. I had the address.

Cayden's first love was alive.

_Why has she never found him before, then?_

Well, that was actually quite simple. She wouldn't have found him because back when it had first happened, she wouldn't have had access to CIA computers and her search would have hit a dead end.

But he was alive. Thirty-two years old, alive, and living in New Hampshire. It had been six years since she had seen him…but she had admitted to me that she still loved him, right? Would she want to run back to him? There was no record that he had married…would he take her back?

What about me? 

The door opened and Cayden called out, "I'm back!"

She had been in town for a little over an hour, but that didn't matter. I quickly cleared the history of the computer and shut down the database before bringing up a game of Hearts. I smiled at her as she came in, "Hey."

"Hey," she said. "Got everything that we're gonna need for Christmas dinner. Or lunch or whenever we decide to eat it."

"Great," I said, my heart pounding.

She sat down on the chair and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her kneecaps. "So, find anything interesting?"

"What?" I asked, shocked.

She gestured to the computer. "In the files."

"Oh," I breathed out. "Um, nothing I haven't seen before."

She nodded. "That's good; I guess."

"Yeah," I said. "It's very good."

And I didn't dare tell her about Jack McBradden.


	28. To Trust

**To Trust**

_Joe_

Okay, so I felt a little guilty about keeping the news that Jack was alive from Cayden. But, as a highly trained operative, I had dealt with all kinds of guilt before. But, there was also the fact that I was in love with the person that I was keeping things from. Head over heels in love with her, actually. In fact, I had no doubt in my mind that I would marry her if she would open up the door. That may seem a little rash, but I'm an operative and I know when something's real and when it's just an allusion. And what I feel for Cayden – well, I knew that it wasn't an allusion. It was the most real thing that I had ever felt. I'd never felt so safe and _alive_. I knew that I would dive in front of a bullet for her, and – to an operative, anyway – that was the ultimate form of love. Because operatives only want to stay alive, so being willing to take a bullet for someone else is a big deal. So, that feeling pretty much made up my mind for me. I was deeply in love with Cayden.

And I knew that she was falling for me, too. First of all, she had told me as much herself. And I believed her. As a highly trained operative, I was able to tell when someone was lying. And even though she was also a highly trained operative, I knew that she wasn't lying. And then there was the way that she acted. She was a lot more comfortable around me and she had even initiated a few kisses between us. She moved closer to me in the middle of the night and she didn't so much as blink now when I put my arm around her. It was quite simple: she was falling in love with me.

Which was precisely why I couldn't tell her about Jack McBradden. She had already told me that she still loved him, even though it was a different kind of love because she thought that he was dead. I was afraid that if she knew that he was alive, she would go back to him and I would be left with a broken heart. And broken hearts have always been dangerous for people like me. I could get distracted and end up being shot. And as for the question: _would she go back to him?_, I strongly believed that she would. She'd _slept_ with him, and not the same way that she had slept with me. She'd actually _been_ with him in that way that meant that she loved and trusted him with her life, with her soul. I had no doubt that she would want to go back with him. That she would want to be with him like that again. She'd already said that she regretted aborting their child because they never had another chance. And, that was another thing: she had carried his child. She'd had a part of him living and growing inside of her. And she hadn't gotten rid of it because she didn't want it – she had only gotten rid of it because she had other plans and she thought that they could have another one later.

What would her child have been like, I wondered? Would he have looked like her or would he have looked like Jack McBradden? I had seen his picture on the computer, and I tried to picture a mix of him and Cayden. They both had the same color of eyes, so that wouldn't have changed. The color of the child's hair…maybe a slightly darker shade than Cayden's. The child would have been beautiful, no matter who it took after.

If it had been mine, though, I never would have let her have the abortion. I would have held her and let her cry, but I would have pleaded with her and told her that I was going to take care of her. I would have kissed her and loved her and made her understand that I wanted this child. That we could have this child and be okay. I would never have taken the easy way out like Jack McBradden had. That just wasn't me.

I slowed to a walk at last and almost immediately, the cold air dried the sweat on my skin. It was Christmas Eve – well, noon on December 24 – and things had been going great between Cayden and I. We were bonding more and more every single day and I knew that it was only a matter of time until something really big happened. Something that would – hopefully – take our relationship one giant step further. And I was waiting, hoping every single day. All day.

I walked back into the house and saw Cayden cooking something in a giant pot. "Getting started already?"

She turned and smiled at me. "Yeah, just a little bit. I'm making the dough for the cinnamon rolls so that we can just pop them in the oven tomorrow morning."

I gave her a big smile. Her delicious cinnamon rolls were as addicting as everything else about her. I walked over to her and pulled her close to me, giving her a long, slow kiss. When I pulled away, I saw the slight blush on her face. "Hmm…" she said.

"I think I'm gonna go and take a shower," I said, giving her my cockiest smile.

She smiled back at me, teasing. "I think that's a _very_ good idea."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, well, I'll be back to help you if you need it."

"Well," she said, gesturing to the pot. "I'm almost done with these rolls, but then I'll get started on some of the stuff for lunch tomorrow, so you can help me with that."

"Do you have to do it today?"

She shrugged. "I guess I could do it tomorrow."

"Cool," I said. "Okay, I'm going to go and take that shower. Back in a flash."

"Bye," she said and I headed for the bathroom, intent to make my shower quick.

_Cayden_

God, the things that he somehow managed to do to me. I hadn't felt this way since Jack, and it still scared me so much. I hadn't exactly grown up watching parents that had shown me how wonderful and blissful marriage was. I don't think that I ever saw them kiss, actually, and I had my doubts that Darren Smith was actually my father. He looked nothing like me and I knew that my eyes didn't come from my mother since hers were dark brown. But, I had never really been interested in finding my real father. I had just let it go because I was afraid of what I might find. Perhaps he had only been a sperm donor or maybe he hadn't wanted a child and he had walked away from me. Irregardless, I never found out. I never told my mother any of my suspicions and I never asked her any questions or did any kind of snooping around. It wasn't because I didn't care, not at first, but it had gotten that way.

Because I was stuck with Darren Smith as my father and from the time that I was ten, I was planning my way out. And soccer was my way. I spent every available second on the field, away from the house where Darren liked to get drunk after his shifts at the station. And even when I was home, I had learned to stay in my room and watch recorded soccer games with the volume turned up as loud as it would go so that I didn't have to listen to the yelling or the sound of plates breaking against the wall. Well…it was good if they broke against the _wall_. And mostly, I stayed on the soccer field so that I wouldn't have to look at my mom, with her bruised, smiling face.

If anything, my childhood home had taught me to be independent. Mom taught me to cook, but in the later years, she wouldn't help me – I had to do it myself. I had to make sure the clothes got washed and that I could get myself to school. I had to study hard to get a scholarship to that private boarding school so that I could get away from that house.

No, I had never known what love was until I met Jack. He had shown me that love was gentle, not violent. He had given me the best of himself while expecting absolutely nothing in return. He had been patient. He had been the thing that finally filled me. He had been perfect for me. And he was dead.

And I knew that it had been Darren that had done it. Darren, who had never wanted me to be happy. Darren, that had been furious when he found out. Darren, who never understood what love was. Darren, who had finally drank himself to death.

I began to cut the dough and put it into the pans. There was going to be a ton left over, but I didn't think that the orphanage would have a problem with me bringing by some more for them. Those poor kids… I guess that I sympathized with them because I'd never really felt like I'd had a dad either. Or a mom, in the later years. She became so withdrawn that she seemed dead to me. Never called, never visited me at school… just stopped caring.

I finished cutting up the dough and then I covered them with aluminum foil. But, I ran out of foil before I could cover the very last pan. Sighing, I went to the pantry to go to try and find some. When I couldn't, I began looking in drawers. And it was then that I reached into a drawer and felt an intense pain in my hand.

"Ow!" I couldn't help but say as I jumped backwards, blood splattering onto the floor. It seemed that my hand was cut, but I couldn't exactly figure out the extent of the damage because the blood was coming out pretty fast. I knew that it wasn't too bad; it had just been the initial shock that had made me recoil and shout.

"What happened?" Joe asked as he came running into the room, his blonde hair dark from the water in the shower. He saw my hand and rushed forward, grabbing my wrist and trying to get a better look. "Here," he said and led me over to the sink. We ran my hand under the water, rinsing off the blood.

"Stay here," he said. "Keep the water over it. I'm going to get the first aid kit. We need to get that cleaned up."

I just nodded and watched him disappear from the kitchen. He was back in a flash, carrying the large white box with him. He set it down on the counter and turned the water off before bringing my hand closer to him. First, he pressed some gauze against it. "Here, hold this down."

I nodded. "I got it."

He began to grab other things from the box and I tried not to watch. I hated all things medical. I hated the sting of peroxide and the feeling of being restricted in bandages.

"Here," he whispered and moved my hand and the gauze away. The cut was all the way across my finger and it was deep. "You're gonna need stitches," he said. "Lucky I can do it. Here, let's clean it first."

He cleaned the cut and then he got the needle ready. And I stared at it, anxious.

He must have seen the expression on my face, because he touched my face gently and said, "It's okay; I won't hurt you."

I nodded. "I trust you."

And I think that my words surprised me just as much as they surprised him.


	29. To Love

**To Love**

_Joe_

She slept peacefully beside me and I held her close, still marveling at the words that she had said only a few hours earlier. _I trust you_. And she had meant it. She had sat perfectly still while I was stitching up her finger with the stitches that would slowly dissolve and be gone by tomorrow morning. Actually, technically, it was already 'tomorrow morning'. It was officially Christmas. And I wanted nothing more than Cayden's love and her trust, one of which I already knew that I completely had. And the other that I was working hard to get.

She stirred slightly and I pulled her even closer, if that was even possible. I breathed in her scent and traced my fingers lightly over her warm skin. I loved her so much…

And then I thought back to my own parents. Believe it or not, I had come from a very good background. At least, it had been at first. My dad had been a doctor, well respected in the community of the small town that I grew up in – that will not be named, for my protection and for the protection of others involved in my life. Not even Mr. Irving knows where I grew up because as far as he was concerned, my life started when I went to Blackthorne.

My mother stayed at home with my younger brother and I and she was quite good at what she did. She drove us to school because she thought that public transportation was unsanitary and she packed us lunch because she believed that cafeteria food wasn't healthy enough. In fact, we very rarely went out to eat. She believed in home cooked meals and families that sat down together and talked – really talked.

My younger brother, Will, idolized me. Just like I hated to be called by my real name - Joseph, he hated to be called William – it was always Will. He always filled his plate with everything that I filled mine with and he always picked up the new phrases that I brought around. He even begged my mother to put him in the very same first grade class that I had been in. And we broke rules together, too: from spying on our parents to sneaking out of the house to go play spy with other neighborhood kids in the park at midnight.

And we grew up with a foundation of faith. I can't remember life apart from church when I think about my childhood. We went faithfully every Sunday morning and Wednesday night and put money in the collection plate. We sang songs – without instruments, as was the Church of Christ way – and I guess that's where I learned to sing. And every night, my father would read a passage from the Bible to my brother and me. And I believed the stuff that he told me – the stuff that he read from the Bible. I believed that Joseph – who shared my name – had been thrown into a pit by his brothers. I believed that Jesus had walked on water. I believed that you had to be baptized for the remission of your sins in order to be a part of God's kingdom. So, when I was twelve, I was baptized. And Will just couldn't wait to join in my footsteps.

Except he never got the chance.

It was a cold night and I was sneaking out to go hang out with some friends. Will wanted to come but I didn't want him to because the group that I was going to hang out with was kind of a rough crowd. I was afraid that he might get hurt or see something that he didn't need to see. But Will was persistent. He kept begging me, out there on the roof. And it was getting cold and I was late and I grew agitated. I tried to push him back in through the window, but he pushed back. I stumbled towards the edge of the roof and on instinct, I grabbed his arm. Well, I managed to grab onto the ledge and pull myself back up onto the roof after I had slipped and fallen. But Will wasn't so lucky.

But the doctors say that he didn't feel any pain.

After that, my parents grew cold. And it wasn't long until they shipped me off to Blackthorne. I doubt that they had any real idea what went on there, but it wasn't long before I found out. And by then, it was too late. And I didn't mind. After Will died, I had grown cold, too. I did everything that they told me to do and I did it well. And I joined the Circle just because I wanted a sense of family again.

And Matt became my family. And then the Circle took him from me. And I was going to get them back. Because, even though Matt was older than me, I saw a little bit of Will in him. And it had been taken from me all over again.

But Cayden…I wouldn't let her be taken from me. Not because she reminded me of Will at all, but because she brought back love that I hadn't truly felt since Will had died. She was everything that I needed and more. I knew that if she wanted to run away together and never go on another mission, I'd do it. I had more than enough money to support us both for the rest of our lives. I'd do anything that she needed me to do for her.

In my arms, Cayden moved a little bit, growing more restless, and I knew that she was getting close to waking up. And when I looked at the clock, I was completely shocked. I had been thinking and reliving my life for more than four hours. And it was almost six in the morning.

She yawned and then her eyes fluttered open. When she saw me looking at her, she gave me that shy smile that warmed my heart. "Hey."

"Hi," I whispered, smiling back at her. "Merry Christmas."

She sat up, surprised, and looked at the clock. Then, she looked down at her hand, where the stitches had dissolved into her skin, leaving only a faint scar behind that would fade in time. Then, she looked at me and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Joe." And she leaned down to kiss me.

_Cayden_

The cinnamon rolls tasted amazing and after we were done with breakfast, Joe helped me wash the dishes. Then, we moved into the living room.

"I think it's time for presents," he said with a grin as he gestured for me to sit down on the couch. Then, he went to the tree and grabbed all of the packages before depositing them on the table. Then, he handed me my stack of presents, tied together with the silver ribbon. "You first."

"If you insist," I smiled and then untied the large ribbon. In the first package was a really beautiful silver charm bracelet. And – get this – the two charms on it were a dove and a sniper rifle. And I had a feeling that he'd had to personally order the sniper rifle one. I mean, what kind of jewelry store would stock that?

"It's perfect," I laughed as I immediately slipped it onto my wrist. I thought it went quite well with the red sweater that I had put on after I had taken a shower and straightened my hair – and, of course, applied some makeup.

"Glad you like it," he responded.

"Open one of yours," I said. "That's how we used to do it in my family. Take turns."

He nodded and opened the largest of his packages. He smiled at the jacket that I had gotten him. "This is waterproof, right?"

"And bulletproof," I said. "One of my acquaintances from the CIA developed it."

"Wow," he said as he turned it back and forth, looking at it. "Impressive."

"Thanks."

"Your turn."

I picked out the medium-sized package next and opened it easily. It was a small, striped box, and inside were my presents. There was a CD of classical music that I immediately went to go put in the CD player before I returned to look at the rest of the contents. He'd also included a package of my favorite type of Ricola and several packages of gum, each a different flavor.

"I didn't know what kind you liked," he explained. "I just got a lot of different ones."

I laughed. "It's great." _Pachelbel's Canon_ played in the background and I couldn't help but think that it was strange. I was sharing Christmas with the man that I was pretty sure that I loved and a wedding song was playing in the background. "Your turn."

He opened the next present and laughed when he saw the gun. "Is it loaded?"

"Yeah," I said. "And it's just a simple Glock, but I thought that it was probably a lot better than that old handgun that I saw on your dresser."

"I don't exactly believe in guns," he laughed as he disassembled and reassembled the gun. "Most of the time if you have to use one, you're already dead. But, then again, I guess it's always good to have one. I believe it's your turn."

I took the final package and opened it, not really knowing what to expect. And I was surprised, at first. Because after I took off the wrapping paper and opened the box, there was nothing inside. Confused, I looked at him.

He merely gave me a small smile and said, "Look closer."

So, I began to look through the tissue paper and that's when I found it.

The ring.

It was silver, with a heart of little tiny diamonds.

"Joe," I breathed.

"I just want you to know," he said softly. "That I love you so much and I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. But, I understand that you may not feel the same way, so this isn't an engagement ring. But, it is a promise ring, and it can be an engagement ring when or if you decide you want it to be."

He left it at that and slowly, I slipped the ring onto my left ring finger. Then, with tears in my eyes, I looked up at him and asked, "So, when's the wedding?"

He looked shocked, and then a wide grin spread over his face. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I whispered and a tear fell. "Joe, I love you too."

He pulled me into kiss him and I kissed him back with more passion than I ever had before. Because I was through being tentative; I was ready to love again. And I was in love with a really great guy.

As we kissed, we could both feel it becoming something more. But, I knew that Joe was holding back because he didn't know whether or not he was moving too fast. So, I had to help him. I broke the kiss and stood, offering him my hand.

He took it and I led him towards his bedroom. As soon as we were inside and I kissed him again, he pulled away. "Cayden, are you sure about this?"

"I trust you," I whispered, looking right into his eyes. "And I love you. Yes, Joe; I'm sure."

His smile could have lit up the entire city of Paris. Slowly, he pulled the red sweater up over my head and moved his lips back to mine. Clothes were shed and he carried me to the bed before continuing his slow movements. He whispered to me the whole time and when he came inside of me, Jack was the last thing on my mind. I had found a new love, a fulfilling one that I knew was right.

And afterwards, when he held me, he whispered, "Does this finally mean that you're mine?"

And I firmly replied, "All of me."


	30. To Vow

**AN: Hey guys, SOOOO sorry for the delay! But, I'm back! Please review, if it's not too much trouble and try to check out my new story _How It Was Back Then. _It's a Joe Solomon story about what he went through before he became _the_ Joe Solomon, and it will probably have a couple of sequels. I'm pretty excited about it, so please read it and review it! **

**To Vow**

_Cayden_

I woke up the next morning, tangled in the sheets and Joe's arms. I smiled and couldn't help myself from leaning to him and kissing his jaw, where stubble had formed in the night.

His eyes fluttered open, a brilliant sea of green. "Hi, there," he said in a husky morning voice that I found I actually loved.

"Hi, there," I replied softly and kissed his lips.

He kissed me back, running a hand up and down my bare arm. "Mmm. So, what's on the agenda for the day?"

I laughed. "I don't have a plan. Why, do you?"

He smirked at me. "Well, if I did, it would involve us being in this room all day long."

I felt myself blush slightly but I burrowed closer to him. "Sounds like a good plan, but there is a slight problem with that."

He raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

I sat up, the sheet still wrapped around my naked body. "I'm hungry. Starving, actually." My stomach growled as if to agree.

He smiled. "Well, then, let's take care of it. Do you want to take a shower?"

"Why?" I asked with a teasing smile. "Do I smell bad?"

He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned forward to kiss my chest. I let out a breath and he pulled away and grinned at me. "No; not at all. Just wondered."

I nodded. "Yeah, I think I do."

"You can take one in my bathroom," he said, "and I'll get started on your eggs."

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I want eggs?"

"I don't," he replied easily as he stood up and pulled on his boxers. "But you haven't lived until you've tasted my special scrambled eggs."

I laughed lightly. "Well, then, I'm in."

He nodded and headed for the door. "Great." He flashed me a last grin before leaving the room. And I stared after him for a few moments before I let out a breath and let memories from last night flood into my mind. With those memories came a smile that I was certain I wouldn't be able to get rid of.

As I rose to head for the showers, I realized that I was a little bit sore. That only made me smile more, though, and I felt it grow when I saw the clothes strewn across the room. I took my time washing my hair and my body, and as the washcloth ran over my skin, all I could think about were Joe's fingers being in the same place and the thought made me shiver with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation.

After my shower, I stepped out and dried myself off before I realized that I didn't have anything to change into. So, I put my panties back on and went through Joe's drawer looking for a T-shirt that would be long enough for me to wear. Finally, I found one and pulled it on before I went back to the bathroom and ran my fingers through my hair, which was already beginning to curl up. I desperately wished for some makeup, but Joe had seen me plenty of times without it anyway.

Finally, I headed out into the kitchen and saw Joe taking toast out of the toaster. He looked up when I entered and his eyes grew wide. "You know," he said, "you can keep that shirt; it looks so much better on you."

I blushed but still smiled as I moved to grab a plate of food. "Thanks for cooking breakfast. Looks like you did well."

"Just wait until you taste it," he winked and we moved to the table. Then, he waited until I had taken my first bite of scrambled egg. And, let me tell you, it was absolutely incredible. They were perfectly creamy and soft, but they weren't too runny. It was like the perfect happy medium and I complimented him. "These are the best scrambled eggs I've ever had in my whole entire life!"

"Did I not tell you?" he grinned at me. "I was a chef for a while as part of an undercover operation. I have to admit, I don't remember most of it, but there are still a few things that I can cook pretty well."

"Apparently."

He smiled and spread jam on his toast. "So, tell me, something."

"Like what?"

He chuckled. "I meant, I want to hear the story of Atalanta."

I dropped my fork. "What?"

He seemed confused. "The riddle…it just confused me. I feel like I've heard of Atalanta before and I…if it bothers you to tell the story then don't; it's fine."

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "No, it's okay. She was in Greek mythology. A fierce hunter and fast, unbeaten. She told her father that she would only marry the man that beat her in a foot race, so a man asked for Aphrodite's help and beat her by trickery. He threw out golden apples that fascinated Atalanta so much that she slowed down to see them. And he won."

"So they were married?"

I nodded and swallowed a bite of my toast. "Yes. And, later, they were turned into lions."

He laughed. "Why?"

I smiled. "There are contradicting theories."

His voice grew soft. "And why does that story bother you?"

"Because," I said, looking down at my plate. "That's what Coach used to call me."

"Coach?" he asked, confused. But then he understood. "Oh, Jack."

I nodded. "Yeah. He said that I was just like Atalanta, swift and unbeatable on the field. His joke before games always used to be 'I hope the other team doesn't bring any golden apples'."

"You still call him Coach," Joe pointed out. "Even though he hasn't been your coach in a very long time."

I shrugged. "He'll always be my coach. He taught me a lot."

"Did you call him Coach when you two were…"

I laughed at the embarrassed look on Joe's face and decided to answer the question. "Yes, sometimes. Other times I just called him Jack."

He smiled at me. "I see."

We took our plates to the sink to wash them off and then put them in the dishwasher. Joe went to shave while I cleaned the pan that he had cooked eggs in and when he came back in, I smiled seductively at him and said, "What can I call you?"

He grinned at my sudden blunt initiative. "You can call me whatever you want," he replied as he walked around the counter and swept me into a breathtaking kiss.

_Joe_

Cayden was the most adorable person in the world. Every little thing that she did made me smile. Like when she bit her bottom lip when she just wasn't too sure about herself. Or when she traced the pattern of a circle on my chest in the quiet moments afterward. Or when she snuggled closer to me when she had drifted off to sleep and her subconscious craved my body heat. Or when she woke me up by kissing me. Or when she sometimes tried to move the sheet up to cover her body as if I hadn't seen her naked before. Or when she blushed. Or when she whispered 'I love you' into my ear, as if it were some great secret that only I could know.

Her laugh, her warmth, the deep pools of her eyes… I had fallen in love with all of it.

"Joe?" Cayden murmured as she stirred in my arms. I wasn't sure if she was awake, though, so I didn't speak. She'd done that before – where she had said something in her sleep but she hadn't been awake. Just another adorable thing about her.

"Joe," she said again and she kissed my bare chest.

I smiled and kissed the crown of her head. "Yes?"

"I thought you were asleep; you didn't answer me."

I chuckled. "You sleep talk sometimes. I didn't know if this was one of those times."

"I do not sleep talk."

"Yes," I grinned. "You do."

I knew that she was rolling her eyes. "Whatever."

"Do you need something?" I asked.

She shook her head and nuzzled even closer, her warm breath fanning my face. "No; I just wanted to talk."

"We can talk." I had never considered myself a romantic, but I knew that I was one with Cayden. I was acting like a man in love – which is what I was. And I liked it.

"Yeah," she said. "I know. But I don't know what to talk about."

I sighed. "Me either. You're the one that started this."

She giggled softly. "Yeah…"

"What are you thinking about right now?"

She sighed. "My parents. Wondering if my father ever showed my mother this kind of love."

I knew that she resented her father, if only because I could hear it in her voice. "I guess it would be hard to see him as a kind guy after…" I trailed off, knowing that it wasn't smart for me to bring that up.

"After he killed Jack," she said bluntly. "It's okay, you can say it."

"I don't have to," I said. "You already did."

She let out a breath. "I've always hated him, even before then. He was never interested in me. He was only interested in his status as a cop and when he would be receiving his next drink of booze. He hit my mother, he threw things at me, he never cared about anyone but himself. Sometimes, I thought that he wasn't really my father. I mean, I looked nothing like him."

I raised an eyebrow and stroked her skin gently. "Did you ever try to check into that or anything?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see the point. I was stuck with him. Finding out who my real father was wasn't going to get me out of that house. It would have just made him angrier at my mother. He could have killed her. I put all my energy into getting into that school instead. That was the most immediate way to escape. And it worked, anyway, so it must have been a good plan."

"Must have been," I repeated softly, wondering what it would have been like to have that life. To have a father that hated you. To have to be the strong one because your mother was beaten down all the time. To only want escape, even as a child. "It must have been horrible. Living under the same roof as him, I mean."

She nodded. "It was. But I got out of there. And I rarely spent holidays with them. I preferred to stay at school."

"That's easy to believe," I said. "I would have, too."

She shuddered and I had a feeling that it wasn't from the cold of the air. It was from the memories that still haunted her. "I always had this fear that I'd fall into the same pattern as my mother," she said. "You know, raise a dysfunctional family and marry some deadbeat because he knocked me up. It terrified me that I would live like that."

"But you're not," I reminded her.

She nodded against my chest. "You're right; I'm not."

I kissed her hair and took a breath before I spoke, my words coming out strong and sincere. "I'll never treat you like that, Cayden. I love you so much and I'm going to take care of you every single day, love you every single day, for the rest of my life."

She leaned back slightly to smile at me, her blue eyes bright. "I know that. You think that I would have agreed to marry you if I didn't?"

I smiled and looked at the ring on her finger. "No, you wouldn't have. You're way smarter than that."

She nodded. "Absolutely. Much smarter than my mother."

"I love you," I told her seriously, a promise.

"I love you, too," she whispered and moved to kiss me.


	31. To Regret

**To Regret**

_Cayden_

So, I knew that I was in love with Joe. I'd been in love before and I recognized the signs. But, it scared me. And for good reason. We were, after all, operatives; and operatives led dangerous lives every single second that they were breathing. Operatives in relationships were in even more danger. To get to you, an enemy could just kidnap the other person and torture you that way. But the fact that he was an operative wasn't the part that scared me the most. I mean, sure, it was another reason, but there was a bigger one. One that pressed on my mind every second of the day.

I was afraid that I would lose him.

Not because he was an operative, but because I had never been able to hold down a relationship. Obviously, my relationship with Jack would have worked out if it hadn't been for events beyond my control. If I had known…I would have given him a proper goodbye. The final moments that I spent with him were stamped in my head, always ready to spring forward and remind me about my incapability to protect the ones that I loved.

_It was two weeks after the abortion. I was getting ready for school at Jack's apartment, where I had spent the night. The tie on my uniform, though, did _not_ feel like cooperating and I heaved a frustrated sigh as I gave up. _

_Jack came up behind me and put his arms around me, kissing my neck lightly as he fixed my tie for me. "Okay, sweetheart?"_

"_I'm fine," I sighed. _

_He kissed my cheek. "If you're sure."_

_I stepped away. "I'm gonna go in early today for Dr. Hawkins."_

_He nodded slowly at me. "Okay."_

_I reached out and fixed a lock of his hair back into place. "I'll see you tonight."_

_He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. "Bye."_

"_Bye," I pulled him away and flashed him a quick smile before I left the room. _

Sometimes, I could still smell the cologne that he'd been wearing that day. I could feel the softness of his hair and taste the mint toothpaste on his breath. I could feel his strong arms around me. And the emptiness in my stomach.

Apparently, he'd "committed suicide" – a.k.a, been killed by my father – not too long after I'd left. I could practically see him waiting outside for me to leave so he could move in for the kill. And I hated it. I hated myself for not waiting and going to school with Jack. To at least be there to take a bullet with him. Because, for a long time after he died, I wished that I had died too. The reason that I had become a sniper was because I wanted revenge. Every target that I was to kill, I pretended was my father. And I hit it every time. Yes, I was a monster. But I couldn't see a life beyond that. I didn't think I'd ever be happy again.

But Joe had changed that. He had shown me that there was a life worth living. He made me happy again after all this time.

But sometimes, I still felt like I was betraying Jack, even though I knew that he would have wanted me to be happy again.

I sighed and put away the last pan that I had finished washing. Joe had run into town for some groceries, but I went ahead and got started on supper, which was to be lasagna. As I browned the meet, memories of Jack came back and I let them.

I remembered all of the times that we had cooked together. (Especially a time that we'd had a fight with brownie batter.) And specifically a time that we'd cooked lasagna together and he'd been singing a Bryan Adams song.

The same one that I began to sing.

"When you love someone, you'll do anything. You'll do all the crazy things that you can't explain. You'll shoot the moon, put out the sun, when you love someone."

I took a breath and continued to sing, a little louder, stronger. "You'll deny the truth, believe a lie. There'll be times that you'll believe you can really fly. But your lonely nights have just begun, when you love someone."

The meat had browned and I began to lay the noodles in the pan, still singing. "When you love someone, you feel it deep inside. And nothing else could ever change your mind."

The next part was my favorite part to hear Jack sing because it gradually got louder with each line and the pitch increased with each line, as well. "When you want someone. When you need someone. When you love someone."

A tear fell from my eye and I didn't bother to wipe it away. As I sang, I could hear Jack's voice singing with me from that time long ago when everything had been so much simpler. When these lyrics were the code that I lived by instead of the sniper code of "One shot, one kill."

"When you love someone, you'll sacrifice. You'd give it everything you've got. And you won't think twice. You'd risk it all, no matter what may come, when you love someone. Yeah…"

Tears fell a little faster as I finished setting up the lasagna and put it into the oven, my hands shaking. "You'll shoot the moon, put out the sun…."

_Or take a bullet. Or give up yourself. _"When you love someone."

Almost as soon as the song was over, I collapsed on the tile of the kitchen floor and began to sob. "Jack," I gasped out, my hands on my chest because I couldn't breathe. "Jack."

Maybe you'd think that if I really loved Joe, I wouldn't be missing Jack. But you're wrong. You can never stop loving your first love. Never. Even though Jack was dead, I would always love him.

I could feel his arms around me, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered comfort to me. "Sweetheart, it's okay."

But it wasn't. It wasn't okay.

I'd only shed tears for Jack once after I'd learned that he'd died. Instead of crying, I had become hard as stone (except for the first day back in his class after it had happened, where I had run out to have a fit like the one I was having now).

_It's okay to cry_, I told myself. _Just let it all out._

And I did. I wrapped my arms around my middle protectively and cried like I had never cried before.

_Joe_

I felt guilty. In fact, I had never felt more guilty about anything before (except for the death of my brother, of course). Not for sleeping with Cayden, no, not at all. I was in love with Cayden and everything about that felt right.

Except for the fact that I was keeping a secret from her.

I felt so guilty about not telling her that Jack was alive.

But isn't it understandable why I would do that? I didn't want her running off to be with him as soon as the mission was over. I didn't want her to leave and never be heard form again. I didn't want her to go back to a normal life. I wanted her to stay with me. And, yes, I'm aware that that is extremely selfish. But, she had agreed to marry me. Sure, if she wanted to leave, I wouldn't stop her. But if I told her about Jack and then she left, I would always be cursing myself for telling her. All I wanted was her. If she wanted me to quit the CIA, I would have gladly done it for her. I would do anything.

Except tell all of my secrets, I suppose.

_It's not a secret,_ I told myself. _She could get on the computer and look him up if she wanted to._

But I also knew that she never would. She thought he was dead. She wasn't questioning that. And she never would unless someone told her that she had good reason to believe that he was alive.

_Okay, fine,_ my inner voice said. _But you don't know that it's even the same Jack McBradden. Surely if the real Jack McBradden had moved, he would have changed his name so that he couldn't be found._

Unless he wanted Cayden to look for him. And, anyways, his name hadn't been public knowledge. The only reason that I had found him was because I had used CIA software.

I sighed and ran a hand roughly through my hair. Cayden loved me and I knew that. What I didn't know was if she loved me more than Jack or if she would go back to him if she had the opportunity to do so. If I knew that she would stay with me without a shadow of a doubt, then I would have told her immediately. But I didn't. And I couldn't lose her. I just couldn't.

What happens when you come between true love, I wondered? Was it karma? Would it come back to haunt me sometime? Would she somehow find out just because I had tried to keep it from her? Would she hate me if she ever found out?

I reached the house and turned the car off, deciding that it was no use going over all of that in my head. I wasn't coming up with any semblance of an answer and all it was doing was giving me a huge headache.

I grabbed the groceries and headed into the house, where a fresh pan of lasagna sat on the stove, along with some garlic bread. Quickly, I put the groceries away and then stood there, confused momentarily because Cayden wasn't in the kitchen. Obviously, she had cooked the lasagna, but where had she gone? Had she not heard me come in?

"Cayden?" I called.

No answer.

I felt my heart begin to pound and I grew afraid. What if the house had been attacked while I had been out? If anything had happened to Cayden… Slowly, I moved forward, heading in the direction of the living room. If killers were in the house, I had already alerted them to the direction of my whereabouts.

Just as I rounded the corner, I caught a movement from my peripheral vision and struck out.

Cayden caught my arm, her eyes wide. "Jesus Christ, Joe."

I breathed out, hating myself for attempting to attack her. "Goodness, Cayden, you scared me."

She let go of my arm. "You're the one that wanted to fight."

"I thought you were a killer."

"_What_?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "You didn't answer when I called."

"Which is why I was on my way to the kitchen," she said. "I didn't know that I had to answer back. Come on, before the lasagna gets cold."

I followed her into the kitchen and we both filled our plates and moved to the table to eat.

"Sorry," I apologized.

She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you speaking Gaelic?"

I was surprised, but I quickly recovered and smiled instead, speaking English this time. "I don't know; at least I'm getting good at it."

She nodded slowly and took a large bite of her garlic bread.

And I noticed her puffy eyes. "Have you been crying?"

She shook her head and reached for her water glass. "No."

"It looks like it."

"Well that's strange, then," she said and I knew that the discussion was over.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah…strange. The lasagna is good."

"Thanks."

Whatever she had been crying about, it was something that had affected her whole mood. When I had left, she'd been happy and chipper. Now she seemed depressed and upset.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked her.

She didn't even look at me as she nodded and said, "Yeah; I'm just fine."

But I didn't believe that.


	32. To Comfort

**To Comfort**

_Cayden_

Joe helped me wash up the dishes and then I yawned. He smiled tenderly at me. "Time for bed?"

"Yeah…"

He raised an eyebrow, his smile fading. "What's wrong?"

I looked down at my bare feet, at the toenails that I'd painted green a few days earlier. The color was called 'Envy'. I couldn't help but think that it didn't fit. The color needed to be a dark, depressing gray. 'Broken'. "I want to sleep alone tonight."

It was silent for a few moments; the only sound was the wind howling through the trees outside.

Then, he took a breath. "Okay."

I looked up at him, gave him a quick kiss, and then headed out of the room before he changed his mind and decided not to let me off so easily. Once in my room, I took a shower and instead of drying my hair, I French braided it quickly and put on my comfiest pajamas before crawling between the sheets and closing my eyes.

But it wasn't a dream that I had.

It was a memory.

Memor_ies_, actually.

_The whole thing with Billy had started my sophomore year. We texted and talked on the phone and he kissed me for the first time in the park. He was a nice guy that went to a public school but lived near my private one. We met everyday after our practices – mine soccer and his basketball. We would sit under a tree for hours on end, talking and laughing and just wasting away the time._

_Which wasn't a wise thing to do._

_I began to play sloppily; Coach even had to pull me out of a game because my head wasn't in it because I was thinking about a fight that Billy and I had had not too many days before and still hadn't resolved. And then, the day after that game, I made an F on a quiz that I should have aced without breaking a sweat. _

"_Aidan," Coach had said when the bell rang. "Please stay behind for a minute." _

_I had watched the rest of the class file out of the room and then Coach had shut the door behind them and approached me, taking a seat at the table in front of me. He tossed the paper so that it floated onto the table and I saw the F at the top, a stamp of disapproval. _

_I sighed._

"_You know this stuff," he said. "I know that you do."_

_I nodded slowly. "I just…I just blanked." I didn't look up at him; I couldn't. _

"_I can give you a retake."_

"_Okay." _

_He sighed. "Aidan, look at me."_

_Aidan, I noticed, not Atalanta. I looked up at him slowly, not wanting to meet his eyes._

"_Is this about a guy?"_

_He must have seen the way that my eyes widened. "I thought so. Look, Aidan, no guy is worth throwing your life away over. You can't keep failing quizzes and playing like you tried to play yesterday."_

_I had nodded slowly. "So when's the retake?"_

"_You can come in early tomorrow morning. But don't breathe a word about this to anyone; I don't want other people expecting the same amount of favoritism."_

_I nodded my head up and down slowly. "Yes, sir."_

_His look changed to one of concern. "So, what's the problem?"_

_I don't know why I told him. Maybe it was just because I'd never really had anyone to confide in before. "He wants to have sex."_

_Coach sat back in his chair. "And you don't want to?"_

"_I don't know," I admitted, expecting him to tell me what to do. _

_He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "Aidan…" he took a breath. "If you pick this moment, with this guy, you're stuck with it for the rest of your life."_

_It sounded so final when he said it. It really got me thinking. "I know."_

"_Is he the one?"_

_The one. I'd heard that phrase before, uttered by schoolgirls that then ended up breaking up with that guy a month later. The one was overrated. "How do you know?"_

_He seemed to struggle with something for a moment. Finally, he said, "If he's the right one, you'll know."_

_And he'd been right, in the long run._

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter to ward off tears and let the memories continue.

_I walked into his classroom, feeling a little nervous at being there. But I couldn't face the girls right now. "Coach?"_

_He turned, the piece of chalk that he held still raised as if he were planning on writing on the air. "Atalanta." He lowered the chalk. "What's up?"_

_I took a breath and walked deeper into the classroom. "Nothing much."_

_His expression grew concerned. "Are you all right?"_

_I nodded my head and turned away so that he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes. To cover it up, I pretended to be interested in the maps on the wall. "Austria-Hungary owned all of this land before World War One?" I asked._

_I could hear the chalk clicking against the board. "Yeah."_

"_How'd the war start, anyway?"_

"_You'll be in my world history class next year," he said. "You'll find out. It'll surprise you, too."_

"_I'll bet." A tear fell and I just didn't have the energy to wipe it away. Instead, I stared at all of the maps as the color of them became blurred. _

_His hand came onto my shoulders and I turned automatically. He didn't even blink when he saw the tears; he had known that they were there. "Aidan," he said softly. "What happened?"_

"_Billy," I said, feeling stupid. "I know it's stupid to cry over a guy, but…well…I don't even think I'm crying over him."_

"_Then why are you crying?"_

"_Because I was stupid," I whispered. _

_He tilted his head slightly. "Did you…?"_

_I shook my head. "No. And that's why he broke up with me." I took a breath and roughly wiped the tears away. "God, I was so stupid."_

_He gave me a small smile. "Most fifteen year olds aren't the most intelligent people in the world."_

"_I can't wait to be sixteen, then."_

_He chuckled and then I stepped into his arms and hugged him tightly. And he hugged me back and didn't let go until I made the choice to step away._

I pulled the covers tighter around me and wondered why my feelings for Jack had chosen now to show up. Was my mind trying to tell me something?

_Coach took me off of the field and put a freshman in. I went to stand beside him, a little bit breathless. _

"_Let's go!" he clapped his hands. "Jordan is open!" _

_I said nothing._

_Then, he spoke to me, quietly so that none of the other girls could hear. "You're playing aggressively today."_

_I looked at him, confused. "I thought that was the point?"_

"_Not the way you're doing it," he said. Then, he called out, "The ball goes in the net! Not over the top of it!"_

"_And how am I doing it?" I asked, confused. I had been practicing rather well. Well, I always practiced well, but I had been on fire out there. _

"_You're playing like you're punishing yourself," he responded. _

_It rang true. "Maybe I am."_

_He looked at me, then. "Why?"_

_I shrugged. "I was stupid. I just…"_

"_You just want to be good at something," he supplied before calling out to the team. "I _know_ that Aidan isn't the only one on this team that can score. Come on!"_

_I said nothing._

"_You are good at things, Aidan," he said. "You don't need to punish yourself because you misjudged a guy. It happens."_

"_I guess."_

_He groaned as Lisa missed a goal. Emma Larson, Katie Brown, Haley Adams, Bailey McCourt, Trisha Dobbs, and Jackie Rogers were gone, so the remaining players weren't that good. "Get in there," he said, "before they give me high blood pressure." _

"_Who do you want me to get?"_

"_Anyone," he said as he rubbed a hand over his face. "Get the goalie, for all I care. I just need an athlete in there since all of my others are taking the SAT."_

_I nodded and walked onto the field, smiling._

God, I missed him so much.

_We were trying to take a quiz and I was struggling with one particular question, simply because I wasn't quite sure how he wanted the statement worded. _

_Suddenly, I heard, "Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Walking home from our house, Christmas Eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe."_

_Everyone looked up at Coach, who was grading papers at his desk while singing. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up and pretended to be startled that we were all looking at him. "Sorry," he whispered._

_We all went back to our quizzes. _

_And then it started again. "She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog, and we'd begged her not to go. But she'd left her medication, so she stumbled out the door into the snow. When they found her Christmas morning, at the scene of the attack, there were hoof prints on her forehead and incriminatin' Claus marks on her back."_

_We all looked at him again and he looked up and pretended to be startled again. "Sorry."_

_We returned to our quizzes. _

"_Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Walking home from our house, Christmas Eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe."_

"_Coach," Heather McCawley finally said, frustrated. No one liked Heather because she was so whiny all of the time._

_He jumped. "Don't have an attitude with me, young lady."_

_People snickered and she rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to take a quiz."_

"_I'm studying," Coach said. "I have a quiz on Christmas songs later."_

_Everyone laughed again and he began to sing. "Now we're all so proud of Grandpa; he's been takin' this so well. See him in there watchin' football, drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle."_

_We all began to laugh, our quizzes forgotten, and Heather crossed her arms angrily._

"_It's not Christmas without Grandma, all the family's dressed in black. And we just can't help but wonder, should we open up her gifts or send them back?" After that line, he pointed at all of us, who shouted out, "SEND THEM BACK!"_

_He pretended to conduct the chorus and we all sang. "Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Walking home from our house, Christmas Eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe."_

_Coach sang the next verse. "Now the goose is on the table, and the pudding made of fig. And a blue and silver candle that would just have matched the hair in Grandma's wig." Then, he pointed at me. "Take it away, Aidan!"_

_Everyone looked at me and I laughed before I began to sing. "I've warned all my friends and neighbors, better watch out for yourselves. They should never give a license to a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves."_

"_EVERYONE!"_

"_Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Walking home from our house, Christmas Eve. You can say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Grandpa, we believe."_

"_WE BELIEVE!"_

"_That was fun!" Coach said. _

"_It's the middle of August," Heather muttered. _

"_Exactly, Heather," he pointed at her. "Sharp as a bowling ball. It's like Christmas in July, except in August."_

_Everyone laughed again and the bell rang. "Hand in the quizzes!" he said. "I'll give you all bonus points for singing with me."_

_Everyone cheered._

_Except for Heather._

I began to sob.

_Joe_

I could hear her crying and I just couldn't take it anymore. I made my way up the stairs and went into the room without knocking, closing the door securely behind me. Then, I slipped into the bed and pulled her into my arms, determined to hold her until she pushed me away.


	33. To Be

**To Be**

_Joe_

I had held her all night long that night and when we'd woken up, she told me that she'd had a few memories about Jack and she apologized profusely. Something in her tone of voice told me that she expected me to leave her. Well, I don't mean leave in the literal sense because obviously we had a mission to complete, but she expected me to leave her relationship wise. So, I had grabbed her hand and held it up. "What's that on your finger?"

"A ring," she'd answered, confused.

I nodded. "A ring that says that I love you unconditionally. Forever. Cayden, I don't care that you think about him or that you're upset about his death. I understand; you loved him and I accept that. It's part of who you are."

She had given me a smile. "Does anyone know that Joe Solomon is a really sweet guy?"

I had pulled her closer in my arms and kissed her. "No; so don't tell."

"My lips are sealed," she'd whispered back before pressing her lips to mine.

Now, we were as happy as could be.

"Cayden," I called.

She came bounding down the stairs and leaped over the last few steps, landing lightly on her feet. "What's up?"

I turned on the CD player and the song began playing. I grinned and held out my hand. "Dance with me."

She beamed and nodded before stepping into my arms, bringing with her the scent that was just so incredibly _her_. "I love this song."

"Me too."

"_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful, stop me and steal my breath. And emeralds from mountains, thrust toward the sky, never revealing their depth. Tell them that we belong together, dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

I had first heard the song when it had first came out on the radio. Of course, back then, I hadn't believed in love at all. I thought it was just an excuse that people used to do whatever they wanted. But, now that I was in love, I knew that wasn't the case. Love was a wonderful thing.

"You're lost," Cayden murmured.

"Only in thought," I told her.

She gave me a knowing smile. "I know the feeling."

I kissed her forehead as we continued to sway in each other's arms.

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

"_And rain falls angry on the tin roof, as we lie awake in my bed. You're my survival, you're my living proof. My love is alive, not dead. Tell me that we belong together. Dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

I spun Cayden and she laughed. "What?" I asked defensively.

She shook her head slowly, her curls bouncing. "Nothing. I'm just really happy here with you."

I felt like my heart would burst. "I'm happy with you, too."

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

She was smiling brilliantly at me and I was smiling back at her. If anyone had walked in, they would have either been grossed out or thought that we were really cute. Or…

"What?" she asked, reading my mind.

I smiled. "I was just wondering…"

"Wondering what?" she pressed.

"Isn't it protocol to report all relationships to the CIA director?"

Realization dawned on her face. "Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that!"

"Me, too," I admitted and we both laughed.

"He's going to be shocked," she said. "We weren't even friends when we left and we'll come back engaged."

"He'll get over it."

She smiled.

"_And I've dropped out, I've burned up, I've fought my way back from the dead. I've tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said."_

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your… I'll "I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

"_The greatest fan of your life…"_

"_Greatest fan of your life."_

The song ended and we both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

After a moment, she said, "How 'bout another song?"

I gestured to the CD player. "Go for it. My iPod is plugged into it, so see if you can find a song that you like."

She walked over and began to fiddle with the iPod while I just watched, the simple motions making me love her even more. Everything that she did made me love her. The way that she slept, the way that she held a pen, the way that she fixed her hair in the morning. We'd even gotten to the stage where she would let me brush my teeth while she was taking a shower. She was less embarrassed about herself when she was around me now, even though she had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was perfect. Sure, she could get a little absentminded sometimes and snap when she was in a bad mood, but if I couldn't accept her imperfections, then I wasn't accepting the real her.

"Joe?"

I shook my head to clear the thoughts away and smiled at Cayden. "What?"

She smirked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I shrugged and even though it was extremely corny, I said, "I just really love you."

She turned back to fiddle with the iPod some more. "I was just commenting on some of the songs that you have on here. I said that you have a really interesting taste in music."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do. But it's a good taste. I have good taste in everything."

"Do you now?" she raised her eyebrows as she picked the next song and moved to step into my arms.

"Yes," I answered. "I chose you, didn't I?"

_Cayden_

The song that I had picked was 'Back At One', by Brian McKnight. It had been one of Jack's favorite songs and I had once danced with him to it. And now, I was dancing with Joe to it.

The piano part was beautiful and I remembered when Jack had taught me to play it. Yes, Jack had been able to play piano. Back then, I'd thought that he could do anything. Except for, you know, fly and read minds and do martial arts and shoot a sniper rifle accurately…

"_It's undeniable, that we should be together. It's unbelievable, how I used to say that I'd fall never. The basis is need to know, if you don't know just how I feel. Then let me show you now that I'm for real. If all things in time, time will reveal…"_

It was so crazy how in love with Joe I was when I knew that I still loved Jack.

"_Yeah…"_

"I love you," I whispered.

He kissed my forehead as he continued to move us.

"_One, you're like a dream come true. Two, just wanna be with you. Three, girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for me. Four, repeat steps one through three. Five, make you fall in love with me. If ever I believe my work is done, then I start back at one. Yeah…"_

"I love you too," he said moments later, his arms tightening around me. And I knew that he did; I could see it in the way that he looked at me.

"_So incredible, the way things work themselves out. And all emotional, once you know what it's all about, babe. And undesirable, for us to be apart. Never would have made it very far. Cause you know you've got the keys to my heart. Cause…"_

The differences between Joe and Jack were many, but the similarities were few and far between. They were both good-looking, smart, and strong, but that was about it. Jack and I had bonded over soccer and history. Joe and I bonded over weapons dealers and drug lords and guns.

I vaguely wondered what Jack would say if he knew that I had gone into the CIA. He would have been very shocked, I knew. When I'd been with him, all I'd been able to talk about was being on the National Team and playing in the Olympics. After all, it had been a very real dream. The National Team had been begging me to join for years and I really was that good, at the risk of sounding cocky.

After the National Team, I had planned to become something challenging with all of my sponsorship money. Like a lawyer or a doctor or something like that. Not a sniper.

If only Jack could see me now…

Joe moved his hand over my chest. Not in _that_ way, but just to feel my heart beating. Then, he smiled at me. "They're in synch."

I laughed.

"_One, you're like a dream come true. Two, just wanna be with you. Three, girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for me. Four, repeat steps one through three. Five, make you fall in love with me. If ever I believe my work is done, then I start back at one…"_

My favorite part was coming up and I couldn't help but sing along to it. Joe just made me feel like a little kid again. And, I wasn't self-conscious about my voice because I knew that it was good. Joe had told me so himself and he didn't seem like one to lie about something like that.

"_Say farewell to the dark night, I see the coming of the sun. I feel like a little child whose life has just begun. You came and breathed new life into this lonely heart of mine. You threw out the life line, just in the nick of time…"_

"I was hoping you would sing that part," Joe whispered right as I hit the last note.

I smiled and continued to sing on the last part. _"One, you're like a dream come true. Two, just wanna be with you. Three, girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for me. Four, repeat steps one through three. Five, make you fall in love with me. If ever I believe my work is done, then I start back at one…"_

The song ended but Joe and I didn't separate. Instead, we kissed and I was sure that it would have gone on forever if I hadn't heard the words to the next song coming on.

"_No clouds in my storms. Let it rain, I hydroplane into fame. Comin' down like the Dow Jones. When the clouds come, we gone. We Roc-A-Fellas…_"

It kept rapping and I looked at Joe, raising an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on."

I began to sing with Rhianna when she came on. "You had my heart, and we'll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star. Baby 'cause in the dark, you can't see shiny cars. And that's when you need me there; with you, I'll always share. Because…"

Joe sang with me. "When the sun shines, we'll shine together. Told you I'll be here forever. Said I'll always be your friend; took an oath, imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more then ever, know that we'll still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella. You can stand under my umbrella…"

We both started laughing, unable to finish the song.

And that's when I realized:

I always wanted to be something. I always wanted to be the best, the top.

But, with Joe, I was content to simply _be._


	34. To Adore

**To Adore**

_Cayden_

"It's your turn."

"Yes, I know."

"Hurry up."

He looked up at me and pretended to glare. "You need to calm down."

I smiled. "It's been five minutes since I've moved."

"I'm trying to actually beat you this time!" he said, gesturing to the board. "I have to think!"

"Just don't get your buttery, salty fingers all over the pieces," I said, wrinkling my nose. He had decided that he needed a snack while we played and popcorn had been at the top of the list.

"I won't," he said and he proceeded to examine the board and think some more, as if this was a game for his life instead of a game for fun.

"How are you planning to eat all of that?" I asked. "That's like a fifty gallon bucket. With way too much salt and butter."

"It is not," he murmured as he reached to move a knight and then changed his mind. "And it has just the right amount of salt and butter."

"It is," I disagreed. "And it does not; I can literally hear your arteries slamming shut."

"Ha, ha," he said without enthusiasm as he wiped his hands on a napkin and then moved his bishop.

I looked at him.

"What?" he asked defensively. "I wiped my hands!"

I continued to look at him.

He grabbed the bucket and offered it to me. "Want some?"

"No, thank you. I like healthy hearts."

"Then _what_?"

I sighed. "We went through that whole five minutes of waiting so that I could do this?" I moved my bishop and he sighed and knocked his pieces down.

"Fine," he said. "So I suck at chess."

"We'll make you smarter," I grinned. "I'll teach you my secret."

He leaned a little bit closer. "Mmm, I like secrets."

I rolled my eyes and playfully pushed him back. "I'm sure you do. But it's going to have to wait so that I can get started on supper."

"I'll help."

"Good," I said. "You can peel the potatoes."

"Right away, love," he said in a British accent as he reached for a knife.

I laughed. "You are such a dork."

He kissed my cheek as he turned on the water to rinse the first potato. "I'm _your_ dork."

I wondered how long it would take for the lovey dovey stuff to wear off. But, then again, it might never wear off. Joe seemed like the kind of guy that knew a good thing when he had it and wasn't bound to let go.

I got started with everything else and it was silent until Joe said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, why?"

He shrugged. "I just want to know everything about you."

I laughed. "Go for it."

"Okay, let's see… Did you ever consider playing any sports besides soccer?"

"Yeah," I said as I began to cook bacon. "In fact, my freshman and sophomore year, I did track when I wasn't doing soccer. I was fast – ran all of the relays. But, the National Team started sending me letters, wanting me to join the team, so I knew that soccer had to be my main priority."

"The track coach must have been disappointed."

I smiled. "He was. Very, actually. Pulled me out of class to beg me to come back. Accused Coach McBradden of brainwashing me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Very."

"Okay," he said. "Next question: have you ever cheated on a test?"

"No," I replied. "Everyone else tried to cheat off of me."

"Did you let them?"

I turned the bacon over. "I tried not to. But everyone had a way of seeing my paper, no matter what I did. But I got revenge once."

He looked at me and smiled. "Devious. What'd you do?"

"I wrote down all of the wrong answers and then pretended to be looking them over while everyone else turned them in. Then, I changed them to the right answers."

"Wow." He laughed. "How many people failed because of you?"

"It wasn't my fault," I reminded him. "They should have studied. And everyone."

"Except for you."

"Except for me." The bacon was ready so I set it to drain and got to work on the soup part.

"What is this supposed to be anyway?" he asked.

"Loaded baked potato soup."

"Mmm," he said. "Sounds delicious. You want these potatoes in fourths?"

"Exactly."

It was silent again until he said, "Dominic will be flying in soon."

I nodded. "Can't wait. I just want to get all of this over with so that we can go home."

He was at my side in a moment, pulling me into a kiss. When he pulled away, I laughed, "What?"

He grinned at me. "You said 'so that _we_ can go home'."

I blushed slightly. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Where _are _we going to live?" he asked. "I mean, I have my apartment…"

"I have mine. It's in New York."

"We can figure all of that out later. Or maybe we could just buy a different apartment somewhere."

I nodded slowly. Buying an apartment with Joe sounded like a lot of fun. Or even a house. We could remodel everything so that it was just the way that we liked it. I pictured unique furniture and beautiful paint colors on the wall. I imagined waking up with Joe next to me every single morning and maybe having kids someday, even though kids had never been a part of my plan after Jack died. Actually, _love_ hadn't been a part of my plan after Jack died.

But Joe had changed everything.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he whispered.

The water came to a boil in the pan.

The sink water was running.

And I smiled and played with the hair at the name of his neck. "Yes," I whispered back. "I do. Because I love you just as much."

As I pulled him into kiss me, he spoke against my lips. "But I love you more."

"Not even close."

_Joe_

The soup was absolutely perfect and I couldn't believe that Cayden could cook so well. After all, I was the one that had gone to culinary school. But, then again, I hadn't been there that long and I had been on a mission, so I was mostly focused on that, not learning how to make soups and decorate cakes.

"This is so amazing," I said as I got another spoonful into my mouth.

She laughed as she stood up to go get more. "Thanks."

"You obviously think so, too," I said as she ladled more soup into her bowl. "Since this is your fifth bowl."

She laughed again as she moved back to the table. "Shut up; I'm starving."

"You could stand to gain a few pounds. Or ten. You're so little."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, you've got something on your nose there."

I laughed. "I am not a brownnoser."

"Are too."

"All I said was that you make amazing soup and you're skinny. Both of those are facts."

She shook her head slowly and began to eat more soup. I'd never seen her eat all that much, but it didn't bother me. She was, after all, super skinny and she worked out a lot. It wasn't going to be a problem.

"How 'bout another chess game?" I asked her.

She shrugged and yawned before taking another bite of soup. "That sounds great."

"Tired?"

She yawned again. "Just a little bit."

I couldn't help but grin at her. "Sorry; maybe I shouldn't have kept you up so late last night."

She looked down into her bowl of soup as if she'd dropped something there. I wish she hadn't looked down, though. Her blush was extremely cute. Everything about her was extremely cute.

After she finished eating, I helped her clean up and then we set up the chess board and I made the first move. She moved and then I moved. It was like a dance. Except for the fact that she always won.

"So," I said as I remembered. "What's the secret?"

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"The secret."

"Oh!" she said. "Yeah. Okay, basically, it's just a way to tell how many moves from checkmate your opponent is."

She explained it and then I tried it out. "So you're…crap." I knocked my pieces over. "You win."

She smiled. "I always do."

"I don't think I want another rematch. I need time to regroup and gather my wits."

"Or find some."

I gave her a glare. "That was not polite at all."

She laughed and put the chess pieces away.

"How 'bout a movie?"

She yawned again. "I'm just really tired, Joe. I think I'm just going to go to bed. But you can stay up, if you want."

I shook my head. "I'll go to bed, too."

I took a shower while she brushed her teeth and washed her face, and then we climbed into bed together, the cool sheets growing warm from our bodies.

"Joe?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you went to a Church of Christ when you were younger, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you sing me one of the songs? Do you remember any?"

I kissed her temple. "They're called hymns."

I knew that she rolled her eyes. "A hymn, then."

"Sure." I thought for a minute and then began to sing the first hymn that popped into my head. The hymn that my mother had used to sing to my brother and I when we were little.

"My heart is sad; my soul is weary, while sailing o'er life's rugged way. The clouds are dark, the day is dreary; It seems all earthly help is vain. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

It brought back so many memories, but I didn't mind sharing them with Cayden.

"There is no earthly friend to guide me; no one to point to heaven's goal. But Christ the Savior stays beside me; to cheer and comfort my poor soul. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

My mother would have absolutely loved Cayden, I just knew it. They would have become great friends and my mother would have helped me shop for the ring and would have helped Cayden plan the wedding…

"At last the harbor I am nearing; I see the lights along the shore. I hear my friends and loved ones cheering; I'll soon be safe forevermore. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

I finished the song and found myself missing my mother's voice. It had been too long since I'd seen her. Dad had died a few years earlier, but I hadn't bothered to even attend the funeral. But I wished that I had.

Cayden was quiet so I looked down and saw that she was asleep, looking like an angel with her hair splayed out and her hands tucked under her chin, curled into fists. She was breathing in and out evenly and every muscle was relaxed. She trusted me to protect her. She trusted me.

"I'm going to take you to meet my mother," I whispered. "After all of this is over, I want you to meet my mother. I know she'll love you."

Then, I pulled Cayden closer to me and kissed her forehead before resting my head beside hers.

I loved her so much; with all of my heart.

And I absolutely adored her.


	35. To Care

**To Care**

_Cayden_

I woke up before Joe, though I was still really tired. A glance at the alarm clock told me that I had slept for ten hours, but I was still exhausted. That's what being away from home for that long did to you. It made you want nothing more than to sleep forever.

Joe was still asleep beside me, so I went stealth mode and slipped out of the bed and headed out of the room and to the kitchen. A con of sleeping for ten hours was that it made you super hungry. But, I figured that an omelet would solve that no problem.

As I began to spray the pan, a song that I didn't remember hearing popped into my head and I began to sing it softly. "My heart is sad; my soul is weary, while sailing o'er life's rugged way. The clouds are dark, the day is dreary; It seems all earthly help is vain. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

It was really a beautiful song. Even though I wasn't crazy about the idea of religion, the idea of angels rocking me to sleep was a beautiful image. But I had no idea where I had heard it or why it sounded so familiar. But it was fun to sing so I continued as I cracked eggs in a bowl and got the cheese out of the fridge.

"There is no earthly friend to guide me; no one to point to heaven's goal. But Christ the Savior stays beside me; to cheer and comfort my poor soul. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

I poured the eggs into the pan and sprinkled cheese over them. Already, it smelled so good that my stomach growled. God, I was so hungry.

"At last the harbor I am nearing; I see the lights along the shore. I hear my friends and loved ones cheering; I'll soon be safe forevermore. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

I turned the omelet over and got out a plate so that I would be ready to get it the moment that it was done. I was so hungry that I suspected I was going to need to make another omelet. And then another one for Joe.

I got out the grape juice and poured myself a glass and drained it in less than thirty seconds. Then, I poured another glass, did the same thing, and ended up having to use the bathroom really badly. So, I got the omelet out onto the plate and ran upstairs really quickly to go to the bathroom.

When I came back into the kitchen, Joe was busy fixing another omelet. He smiled at me, "Morning. Why didn't you wake me up?"

I shrugged. "Didn't figure there was any reason to wake you up."

He held out my plate. "Here you go."

"Thanks." I took it and moved to the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

He shrugged and folded the omelet. "Absolutely nothing. But we should probably run into town. We're running low on a few things."

I nodded slowly and took my first bite of the omelet and _OH GOD_ it was good. I savored the taste only for a moment before I began shoveling more in. It was like I just couldn't stop eating it.

"Whoa," Joe laughed. "The soup last night didn't fill you up?"

I felt myself blush and I swallowed a bite. "I'm just really hungry."

He nodded and slid his omelet onto a plate. "I hear that happens after you sleep for a long time. Do you want this omelet, too? I can make myself another one."

"No," I said, even though I was still sort of hungry. I knew that if I ate too much, I would make myself sick or something. "I'm full."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Absolutely. Go ahead."

He sat down as I moved to wash my plate and then the pan.

"I can wash that," he said.

I shrugged as I poured a little bit of liquid soap into the pan. "It's okay; I don't mind."

After I had washed and put away the pan, I told him, "I'm gonna go ahead and take a shower."

He smiled at me. "I'll be here."

I left and headed into the bathroom, where I turned the water on to as hot as I could stand, hoping that would do a better job of keeping me awake. Then, I stripped out of my pajamas and got in, letting the water run over me. After I had washed my hair and my body, I stepped out and toweled off.

Just to waste a bit of time, I blow dried my hair straight and then decided that I wasn't going to mess with makeup.

I had moved my clothes into Joe's room a couple of days before, so I headed out there to find myself some yoga pants and a T-shirt. Then, I decided to pull my hair into a ponytail and I didn't care what Joe thought, I needed more food.

But I had barely reached the door when my stomach tightened into knots.

_I knew I was going to make myself sick from eating that fast._

I sprinted into the bathroom and collapsed onto my knees on the tile floor, making it to the toilet just in time for me to retch into it.

_Joe_

I had just gotten to my favorite part in the movie when I heard the sound. It sounded like retching. Like Cayden was retching.

I got to my feet and had made it into the bathroom before I had drawn another breath. And I saw Cayden kneeling on the floor, breathing really hard after having just retched into the toilet. She took a gasping breath and flushed the toilet and then leaned up and wiped her mouth. And then she saw me.

"Get out," she moaned.

I fought a smile as I kneeled beside her. "Not a chance. Are you okay? Do you think you have the stomach bug or something?"

She shook her head and began to pull herself off of the ground. "I just ate that omelet way too fast. It upset my stomach."

She stumbled and I reached out to steady her. "Here; get your mouth washed out."

She washed her mouth out with mouthwash and then I swept her into my arms. "You need to go to bed."

She rolled her eyes. "I just ate my omelet too fast, Joe. I'm fine; seriously."

I ignored her and set her in the bed and pulled the covers over her. "I'm gonna run into town for the stuff we need, okay? I'll pick you up some stuff to calm your stomach."

She rolled her eyes again. "Seriously, stop worrying. I'm fine. I don't even feel sick at all."

I smiled and kissed her forehead (which didn't feel feverish at all). "I love you; I want to take care of you."

She gave a small smile. "Is this where I let myself be taken care of because I love you back?"

I smiled and kissed her quickly. "You're such a smart woman."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm getting out of bed the moment you're gone."

I sighed. "I would prefer you didn't."

She just gave me a look.

I sighed again. "Okay, okay. I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?"

She smiled. "Hurry."

_Cayden_

Despite what I had said to Joe, as soon as he was gone, I burrowed deeper under the covers and closed my eyes. And it wasn't long until I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

"_Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."_

_Joe_

I thanked the lady and carried the groceries out to the car. It really irritated me that Cayden was sick. Not because she was sick, though, but because _I_ wasn't sick. I would rather it have been me. I wanted to shield her from everything, but this was just a reminder that I couldn't. Sometimes, she would have to take a blow and all that I would be able to do was help her.

I drove a little too fast through the woods, but I made it to the safe house and quickly headed inside with the groceries, which I put away quickly before I went to check on Cayden.

She was still in bed, fast asleep, though she woke up when I came into the room.

"Sorry," I apologized, approaching slowly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She shrugged and blinked rapidly so that her eyes could adjust to the light. "It's okay."

"So, you were sick after all."

She rolled her eyes and threw the covers back. "No, just tired. But I'm fine now, really. I don't feel sick at all."

"Too bad," I said as I threw the covers back over her. "You're staying in bed all day. We can't have you throwing up while you're trying to shoot Dominic."

She sighed. "Fine; whatever. Let's just get this day over with so that I can get out of bed and do something productive tomorrow."

"I'm going to go get you something to drink that I picked up. Peppermint tea; it's supposed to soothe a stomach."

She nodded. "I've heard that."

"I also got you some peppermint sticks. They're mostly sugar, but that's the best kind."

She chuckled. "Absolutely."

"I'll be right back."

After she had drunk enough tea and had eaten a few peppermint sticks, I took a shower and then got into bed beside her, pulling her against me. She still didn't feel feverish, which was a good sign. Maybe she really did just eat her omelet too fast.

She yawned and rested her head on my chest.

"Want me to sing you asleep again?"

I could hear the smile in her voice. "That sounds nice."

"_Angels Rock Me To Sleep_?"

"Perfect," she whispered.

I stroked her hair as I began to sing. "My heart is sad; my soul is weary, while sailing o'er life's rugged way. The clouds are dark, the day is dreary; It seems all earthly help is vain. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

She sang with me on the second verse.

"There is no earthly friend to guide me; no one to point to heaven's goal. But Christ the Savior stays beside me; to cheer and comfort my poor soul. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

We sang together for the last verse as well.

"At last the harbor I am nearing; I see the lights along the shore. I hear my friends and loved ones cheering; I'll soon be safe forevermore. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."

I kissed the top of her head. "Sweet dreams."

She snuggled even closer to me. "I love you."

I simply smiled as she fell asleep.


	36. To Fear

**To Fear**

_Joe_

It was coming up. We had it on authority that Dominic would be flying in on January twenty-eighth. And I was pretty sure that Cayden and I were going to strike only a day or so after that. If we waited, there was a chance that he would move before we got in and that would be unacceptable. We had to nab this guy.

I yawned and sat up, careful not to wake Cayden; she really had been sick yesterday, I could tell because she had slept through the night and didn't even stir when I moved. She'd insisted that she wasn't sick, but I suspected that it was exhaustion. Once you've been in a place for so long, you just get sick of it. I'd felt like that before, too, though I'd never actually thrown up from it.

I got out of bed and moved to go and take a shower. After that, I shaved and put on some clothes before I went into the kitchen to eat a bowl of cereal for breakfast. The next week or so would be pretty boring until we really got to work on catching Dominic.

"He rocks in the treetops all day long, hoppin' and a-boppin' and singin' his song. All the little birdies on Jaybird Street love to hear the robin goin' tweet tweet tweet; rockin' robin."

I smiled as Cayden came into the kitchen, still singing. She had taken a shower and her hair was still wet, beginning to curl. She wore one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, and her skin appeared lit from inside.

"Blow, rockin' robin cause we're really gonna rock tonight."

She got down a bowl and reached for the cereal. "Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee-"

I cut in. "Every little bird in the tall oak tree."

She smiled. "The wise old owl-"

"The big black crow-"

We sang together. "Flappin' their wings, sayin' go, bird, go, rockin' robin."

She finished pouring the milk into her cereal and came to join me at the table.

"You're in a good mood this morning," I noted.

She laughed. "I told you I wasn't sick. Being in bed all day yesterday gave me way too much energy today."

"Better safe than sorry," I told her.

She rolled her eyes as she swallowed a bite of her food. "If I had really been sick, then you would have it, too, as close as we are."

"We'll see."

"So, anything on the agenda for today?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Why, did you have something in mind?"

She shook her head. "I was just wondering. We probably need to clean a little bit more. There was some dust that I noticed yesterday."

I couldn't help but smile. "We better take care of that."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't mock me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So," she said. "After we clean, how about we watch a movie?"

"Sounds good." I replied. "Oh, would you be opposed to meeting my mother when we go back?"

She shook her head and gave me a smile. "I'd love to meet your mother."

"I have to warn you, though," I said. "I haven't seen her since they shipped me off to Blackthorne."

"Why'd they ship you off?" she asked.

I took a breath and began my story, remembering that she had lost someone she loved, too. She knew how it felt. "I had a brother; he always wanted to be just like me. He did everything I did and one night, I was sneaking out and he wanted to come to. But the people I was going with, they weren't exactly church people. So, I told him to go back inside, but he wouldn't. We tussled a bit and…" I choked on my breath and she reached across the table and touched my hand, concerned. "He fell," I finished. "Broke his neck."

She gasped. "Oh, Joe…"

I nodded slowly. "They shipped me off not too long after that. I can't blame them, either. It was my fault."

"You didn't want that to happen," she said firmly.

"No," I agreed. "I never wanted that to happen."

She moved to the other chair to rub my back.

I smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "But, if it hadn't happened, I never would have met you."

She smiled and leaned in. Against my lips, she whispered, "Fate at its finest."

_Cayden_

I sang as I scrubbed the sink in the bathroom – a song that made me think of Joe's brother, whom I had never met. But the song also made me think of Jack.

"If I die young, bury me in satin; lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river, at dawn; send me away with the words of a love song."

I sometimes wished that I had gone to Jack's funeral. Students had tried to tell me about it, of course, but I had never listened. I didn't want to hear about how pretty the flowers were or how eloquent the preacher was. He was dead – the man I loved was dead – and that was all that I had needed to know. I hadn't cared how many people showed up or how the casket had been closed. I just didn't care. But sometimes, like now, I wished that I had.

"Lord, make me a rainbow, shine down on my mother. She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and, life ain't always what you think it oughta be, no; ain't even gray but she buries her baby. The sharp knife of a short life; I've had just enough time."

What did my mother think about my disappearance? Had she been upset? Had she even really spared a thought for me? She hadn't really been around the last couple of years that she had known me. We'd grown really far apart. And it was all my "dad's" fault. He tore our family apart.

"If I die young, bury me in satin; lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river, at dawn; send me away with the words of a love song."

A nice funeral to have, I decided. It would be really pretty. Something about floating away into the next life…

"The sharp knife of a short life, well, I've had just enough time…"

Sharp knife… The song was creepy, in a beautiful sort of way.

"And I'll be wearing white when I come into your Kingdom I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finer. I've never known the lovin' of a man, but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand. There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever. Who would have thought forever would be severed by the sharp knife of a short life? Well, I've had just enough time…"

The song was really pretty. The woman who had recorded it had a voice kind of like mine, unusual and unique. And the meaning of the song was deep, as I thought every time that I heard it and now, as I sang it. Enough time… Had Jack really had enough time? Had Joe's brother? Who was to say?

"So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls. What I never did is done."

I began to rinse the rag out, letting the water run over my hands. As it did, I felt a little tickle in my stomach and I was afraid that I was going to throw up again, but thankfully, I didn't. I just hadn't eaten enough at breakfast because I'd been scared of throwing up again. I moved to the bathtub and pulled the curtain back as I continued to sing the song.

"A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar. They're worth so much more after I'm a goner and maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singin'. Funny when you're dead how people start listening."

How true that was. After someone died, everyone seemed to wonder if the person knew that they loved them. Or if that person had something that they had needed to tell them. People always wished to talk to the dead, sometimes only to know what it was like to die. I, personally, had no interest in the thoughts of the dead. I just had to trust that Jack knew that I loved him. Surely, he did; because I definitely knew that he loved me.

"If I die young, bury me in satin; lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river, at dawn; send me away with the words of a love song."

If only his funeral could have been something like that. He'd always loved poetry, and it would have seemed very poetic to him. He definitely would have approved. I finished cleaning the bathtub and moved to wash the rag out again.

"The ballad of a dove…"

It didn't really seem fair that Jack had been taken from me. He'd been young, too, and he was the only person that I'd had that had loved me for me. Of course, if he hadn't died, I wouldn't have met Joe. Once, I'd heard the phrase "some things fall apart so that better things can fall together". I guess that rang true.

"Go with peace and love…"

I hoped that Jack had. And Joe's brother, too.

"Gather up your tears; keep 'em in your pocket. Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em, oh."

I sighed and moved out of the bathroom.

"The sharp knife of a short life. Well I've had just enough time…"

But did they? Did anyone ever really have _enough_ time? And why was I questioning death all of a sudden? It was simply a fact of life.

My stomach twisted into knots as I thought about Jack and even Joe's brother. Why did they have to be taken?

"So put on your best, boys, and I'll wear my pearls…"

Joe stepped into the room. "Hey, I finished dusting everything upstairs and I-" He cut off. "Sorry, were you singing?"

And then I felt the tear trail down my face, a whisper against my skin.

He grew concerned and stepped closer. "Are you crying?"

"It's stupid," I whispered as I stepped away. "I'm sorry."

He stepped closer and cupped my face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

"I was just singing," I whispered. "_If I Die Young_."

He nodded in understanding. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" I whispered back.

He leaned into me, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that had waited far too long to be fit together. Those last two pieces that made everything come together perfectly. "I am when I'm with you," he whispered.

I pulled him into me for a kiss, and it grew and grew, like a fire inside of us was raging out of control. Whispers, caresses, kisses…they all blended together to form something so beautiful that it completely consumed my mind.

Afterwards, we just laid there in the silence until I finally whispered, "Joe?"

He continued to draw geometric patterns on my arm. "Yeah?"

"If I die-" I began.

He cut me off. "Don't say that."

"I don't want it to happen, either," I told him. "But if it _does_, I want you to move on and be happy."

He kissed my hair. "I'm not sure that's possible."

"It's hard," I admitted. "But promise you'll at least try?"

He sighed. "Fine. I'll at least try."

I smiled and tilted my head up to kiss him. "Thank you."

"I love you," he replied.

"I love you, too."


	37. To Admit

**To Admit**

_Joe_

She hadn't fallen asleep, though I knew that she was tired. Something was on her mind, I could tell. I kissed her forehead gently and asked, "What's wrong?"

She stirred slightly, as if I had just woken her up, but I knew that she hadn't been asleep. "Nothing," she murmured.

I didn't believe that. Not for a second. "Come on, Cayden. Tell me what it is."

She sighed. "I was just thinking. It's not a big deal."

"If it's bothering you," I told her seriously, "then it is a big deal. At least, it is to me. So, what is it?"

"You're persistent," she mumbled.

"Hell yeah."

She nuzzled into my shoulder and sighed, her warm breath fanning over my skin.

"So…" I prompted.

"So…" she repeated.

"Cayden."

She sighed. "Just thinking."

"About…?"

She sat up slightly, propping herself up on her elbow, her bright blue eyes boring into mine. "I was reading a book earlier."

"And?"

"It was about this lady whose husband had died. She said that for the rest of her life, she could feel him hovering over her, protecting her. And people say that all the time; that their dead loved one is up in heaven, they can feel it. And maybe it's true, but…" A tear fell and she hastily wiped it away. "I've never felt it. I've never felt Jack."

My heart stopped beating and I prayed that she wouldn't notice the shocked expression on my face. But she was too busy wiping tears away. "I know it's stupid, but I always figured that someday I'd be able to feel him watching me, just to show me that he's okay. I feel all sensitive and weak saying it, but I kind of wish that would happen. All I've been feeling when I think of him is emptiness, though. And that worries me because maybe, just maybe, it's because we didn't love each other enough."

_Oh no_. I had so many options. I could have simply held her close while she cried and told her that it was going to be okay. I could have told her to go to sleep, that it would be better tomorrow. I could have told her that she was being ridiculous; that, of course, Jack was watching her. But none of those were going to work; even though I'd been trained to lie, I knew that I couldn't lie to Cayden's face while she was so upset. I loved her and she deserved the truth, even if the truth might send her away from me forever. God, I really hoped that didn't happen. I couldn't picture my life without her anymore; I needed her around. I _wanted_ her around, to play chess with and cook and clean and…

_I have to do this,_ I told myself. _I have to tell her and let the chips fall where they may._

I took the largest breath that I could and as I exhaled, I said, "There's something that I should have told you a long time ago."

She adjusted her hand so that her head could rest on it more comfortably. "What's that?" She didn't say it cautiously; she wasn't scared of what I had to say. She didn't think it was that bad, which only made it harder.

"Shortly after we recovered Dominic's disc, you went into town for supplies."

She nodded. "I remember."

"I stayed home," I said.

She nodded. "Yeah…"

"You'd just told me about your former life," I said. "You know, Aidan and Jack and all of that."

She nodded again, clearly wondering where this little story of mine was going to go. I'll admit, I wasn't being very eloquent about it. I was terrified of what her reaction was going to be. I wasn't even sure what I _wanted_ her reaction to be.

"Well, I was bored and there was nothing to do, so I checked into you. I looked at newspaper clippings from soccer games, school records, birth certificate, all of that."

She smiled. "I kind of expected you to, Joe. I'm not angry."

_Oh, but you're going to be. You're going to hate me. You're going to leave. You're going to throw my ring at me and refuse to marry a monster like me. _"That's not all."

She gestured for me to continue.

"I was using the CIA system…"

She nodded. "Clearly. What else would you use?"

I sighed. This was going to be so hard. "You never went to Jack's funeral."

She shook her head, confused. "No, I didn't want to. I didn't want to think of him like that. My friends even tried to tell me about his funeral, but I didn't want to hear about it. I still thought that it was my fault; I felt guilty."

_Don't do this_, part of me screamed. _She'll leave you and she won't come back_. But, still, I knew that I had to tell her. She needed to hear the truth. I would have wanted her to tell me if my brother was still alive, after all. She loved him and she needed the chance to go and see him.

Or I could have just taken her to an empty grave and let her cry there. And then she would never know…

No.

"The funeral was closed-casket."

She raised her eyebrows, surprised at that news. "Okay… Why does that matter?"

I took a deep breath. "The funeral was closed casket because there was nothing there for them to show."

She took a moment. "So, are you saying that his body was so mangled that they-"

"No," I interrupted, unable to bear it any longer. "The funeral was closed casket because they had nothing to put there. They were paid off, all of them."

"Who was paid off?" she asked, confused. She sat upright, looking down at me. "Joe, what are you talking about?"

I sat up, too, wanting to do anything but tell her what I was talking about. "I looked him up on the system, Cayden. He lives in New Hampshire. Jack is still alive."

_Cayden_

My first thought was that he was insane. Or fevered. Or both. I was about to offer to look up the nearest insane asylum when my brain forced me to think. After all, an operative's greatest weapon is their brain.

Things began to fall into place, then.

My dad (if you could even consider him that) had a lot of power. When he spoke, people listened. He was commanding. And, he had a lot of money, even if he didn't let that on. His family had been rich and he had inherited all of their money. He could have very well paid the funeral home people off. He could have paid for everything.

But why would Jack have just disappeared like that? He wouldn't have left me. So, had my dad threatened him? _No_, I realized. _He threatened me_. Jack wouldn't have cared about threats on his life. But a threat on me… Well, that was an entirely different story.

I suddenly felt dizzy, the room was spinning. I felt claustrophobic. I threw the covers back on the bed and my feet touched the floor.

"Cayden?" Joe said cautiously.

I ignored him and pulled on my underwear and then my sports bra. It was like I was a machine, like I was on autopilot. I was barely even aware as I pulled on my shirt.

"Cayden," he said again, softly this time.

I reached for my pants and pulled them on slowly, still in a daze. Jack was alive. That opened so many doors. I could go and see him and we could talk and laugh like we used to. We could play soccer together and I could tell him about my missions as a sniper. He wouldn't believe it at first, because I'd always hated guns, but maybe I could teach him to shoot and…

"Cayden."

It would feel so good to be myself again. The part of me that no one really knew. I could be Aidan again. Aidan, the girl that was top of her class and so good at soccer that the National Team had wanted her before she was even out of high school. I wouldn't have to be a sniper anymore. I could leave the CIA.

Joe grabbed my arm, then, and gripped it like a vise. "Cayden, stop. Listen to me."

And then, all of my anger came out. My happiness from moments before evolved into this anger so ripe that I lashed out and slapped Joe right across the cheek. In surprise, he let go of my arm and stumbled back.

"I hate you," I spat at him. "I can't believe that you would let me go on thinking that he was dead. How could you do that to me?" I sounded like a little kid on the last bit, but I really didn't care. I wanted him to know how much he had hurt me. How much I hated him for it.

"You don't understand," he whispered softly, looking at me with his bright green eyes. "Please, just listen to me."

"I'd love to hear your explanation," I told him. "I really would. I would _love_ to hear how you could do this to me!"

"Because I love you!" he pleaded.

I let out a laugh of disbelief. "If you loved me, you would have told me!" The spy part of my brain was wondering when he had pulled on clothes. The woman in me was desperately fighting back the tears, not wanting him to see me cry.

He nodded. "I know. That's why I'm telling you now. At first, I thought that if I told you, you would hate me. And we were engaged and I didn't want you running back to him…" He took a deep breath and his eyes were filled with something… "But I know that it was selfish and it was wrong. I'm so sorry."

"Do you expect me to forgive you?" I asked him, my voice sounding far away. How could I forgive him for that? I had been hurting so much lately, struggling with Jack's death because I had never let myself struggle with it before. And he had just sat back and watched me struggle, even though he knew the truth. He had let me hurt. How do you do that to someone that you love? How? If I'd had knowledge like that, I would have shared it. If he really loved me, he would have seen how badly I was hurting and he would have told me, regardless of the consequences. He was right; it had been extremely selfish and extremely wrong. He would never understand how much.

"I don't know," he whispered and he looked down at the floor.

_Is he hiding tears_? But I told myself that I didn't care. I didn't care if he was crying and I didn't care if he was hurting. I just didn't care. I didn't care about anything but the ache in my stomach, the ache in my heart.

_Jack is alive. He's alive and living in New Hampshire. I can go see him. He's alive._

"You don't know," I repeated, wanting him to know how stupid that sounded. Wanting him to know that I wasn't planning to forgive him.

He looked up at me, raw emotion in his eyes. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "There is no right thing to say. I'm just hoping – praying – that you'll eventually be able to forgive me. I'm hoping that I mean enough to you that you can look past this. I'm hoping that you'll choose me over Jack; I'm hoping I mean as much to you as he did."

Before he could continue, I stepped closer to him and spoke in my most angry voice, a low whisper filled with hatred. "You will _never_ mean as much to me as Jack did," I said and then I stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.


	38. To Plan

**Sorry it's been like FOREVER since I've updated! Also, I started the new sequel in the Joe/Katelyn series called "Right Here Waiting", so don't forget to read and review that!**

**To Plan**

_Joe_

I could still hear the echo from the slamming door. It had been ten minutes, but I still felt her words cutting me. Slowly, I sank to the floor and put my head in my hands, for once feeling like it was okay for me to cry. _Joe Solomon doesn't cry._ He does now.

I knew that I shouldn't have told her. I knew that it was only going to rebuild the wall that had taken me too long to completely break down. I should have just kept it a secret and taken her to the empty grave so that she could grieve a man that wasn't really dead. But would I have been able to live with myself if I had? Could I have gone on every day with that knowledge, knowing that somewhere deep inside, she would always hurt from it? No, I honestly didn't think that I could have. But what was I supposed to do now? Just let her go? Then _I_ would be living in pain every day for the rest of my life.

There was no answer. For once, I was at a loss as to what to do. I knew that going after her would be foolish; she would just push me further away. She needed time to think and decide what she was going to do. And if she wanted to leave me and go back to Jack, I knew that I would have to accept that.

She needed to be happy.

_Cayden_

I opened the laptop and sat cross-legged on my bed while I waited for it to warm up. All around me was silence, but inside of me was a turmoil like no other. There were so many emotions that, at one point, I had to close my eyes and meditate the way that I had been taught to conceal emotions. To sweep them under a rug.

The computer was warm and so I typed in everything I needed to get into the database and then the little rectangle appeared. **Name of person you would like to search:**

I stared at it for a moment and then my fingers moved over the key in a blur. **Jack McBradden**.

The screen faded and then a new one came up, a list of names. I clicked on one and when it came up, my breath caught in my throat. It was Jack. He looked the same as always, except, perhaps, for a little bit older. He still had the same dishwater blond hair and bright blue eyes. The same muscle tone. He was absolutely gorgeous.

I reached out and touched the picture as tears spilled over from my eyes. How was it that I had never quite realized how much I really missed him until I saw his picture again? Why did I feel like my heart was breaking all over again? "I'm sorry," I whispered to the picture. "I'm so sorry that I never tried to look for you. I should have known. I should have known."

And then, I continued to scroll down the page, looking at a bunch of stuff that I already knew. His college soccer records, his PhD, his time teaching at the school. There was a little bit about his parents, and then some links to newspaper articles that mentioned him. Instead of clicking on any of those, I continued to scroll down, trying to find the information.

And there it was. His address in New Hampshire. Joe hadn't lied. Well, actually, he had. He should have told me the second that he knew instead of keeping it a secret. Feeling the rage bubble inside of me, I took a few deep breaths to try to suppress it. He wasn't worth being angry over.

I clicked on a picture of his house and I smiled when I saw it. It was plain and simple, one-story with a perfectly manicured yard. He wouldn't have wanted a huge house. I tried to find information on employment, but all that came up was the name of a diner. Did he own it or something? Oh, well, I would figure all of that out when I went to find him.

I smiled as I pictured it happening. I would walk into the diner and maybe he would be there, talking to customers, or maybe he would be at home. Either way, I would wait on him. And then, when he came in the door and saw me, he would smile and run to me, pulling me into his arms. And I would finally feel safe with another person, safe with him. I could be my true self again, not the part of me that I had become by running away to the CIA. We could be happy together.

When I glimpsed the ring on my hand, I took it off and slammed it onto the nightstand beside the bed. I no longer belonged to Joe. I would never belong to Joe. Not after what he had done. But, just as I thought that, I felt an ache in my stomach. I knew that I loved Joe, I really did. But he had lied to me, and I wasn't about to move on from that. I was angry at him and it was the type of anger that wouldn't go away easily.

I put the computer aside and went to go take a shower. After my shower, I dried off and pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and then blow-dried my hair just for something to do. I knew that I would have to go downstairs eventually, but I needed some time. I wasn't going to leave, though. I had a mission to complete and when I accepted a job, I saw it through.

Speaking of jobs, I was going to have to find one once I was reunited with Jack. It wouldn't be too hard to get myself into a college, though. I could even fake a degree and then go into whatever field that I wanted…

With a sigh, I pulled my hair into a ponytail and then headed downstairs.

_Joe_

I heard her coming, but I couldn't move. Instead, I just sat there with a plate of untouched bacon in front of me. My coffee was no longer hot. I still hurt.

She came into the room and she knew that I was there, but she studiously ignored me.

"There's bacon," I said softly.

"No, thanks," she said. "I think I'll just have some cereal."

I kept quiet and watched her pour some into a bowl and then add milk. She grabbed a spoon and, rather than join me at the table, she leaned against the counter to eat.

And that's when I noticed that my ring was missing from her hand.

She was going back to Jack.

My throat closed up and I had to look down at the map on the table to hide my tears from the girl that had stolen my heart.

_Cayden_

"What are you looking at?" I finally had to ask, because he'd been staring at that map for a long time. Just because he'd kept me in the dark about Jack, didn't mean he should keep me in the dark about our mission.

He looked up at me and I started a bit when I saw the pain in his unusually dull green eyes. When he spoke, I could hear his pain. "Looking at all possible exits. We'll have to attack Dominic at the end of this week."

I nodded slowly, having totally forgotten that the time was drawing near. "I guess I need to start practicing with my moving targets again."

"We're going to have to make another surveillance trip soon to scout the roads and-"

"Then let's go today," I said and poured the rest of my cereal down the drain. "I'll drive."

And then, I grabbed the keys from the hook beside the door and went outside, not caring about the chilly wind because I was already frozen on the inside.

_Joe_

As soon as I was inside the vehicle, she took off. I knew that she wasn't going to hit anything, but her driving scared me because it proved just how angry she was. And she had a right to be. I should have told her much sooner. Or, maybe I shouldn't have looked her up at all after that day. I should have just left it alone. And then, we would be perfectly happy.

When we reached the town, she asked me to begin reciting the exit roads and I did. We drove all along them, deciding on the best ones, and then we headed back to the safe house. I offered to drive twice, but she refused each time, claiming that she was fine.

I wanted to be brave enough to say something, but what would I say? I'd already told her everything that I had to say. She knew how much I loved her and how much I wanted her. She knew. And I knew that she loved me, but she apparently loved Jack so much more.

I couldn't fault her for that.

When we reached the house, we swept it and then sat down at the table, the chill sweeping over both of us even though the heater was going.

Finally, she spoke, in a voice hard as stone and sharp as a knife. "So, what's the plan?"

I looked into her beautiful blue eyes that were iced over, her hard expression, and sighed. "Let's come up with one together."

She cringed when I said 'together', but she nodded. "Fine." She spread the blueprints of the warehouse out. "What do you think?"

"We have to kill the security system," I said.

She stared at it for a minute. "That's over here," she pointed. Then, she thought for a second more. "Maybe we should cut the lights."

"What good would that do?" I asked her, not being argumentative, just curious.

She pointed to the stairs that led to the basement. "The back-up generator is in the basement. Everyone would go down there to try to get the lights up and running. Everyone except…"

"Dominic," I nodded. "He'd probably stay in the office. It's a good plan."

She nodded. "Thanks."

"Will the darkness affect your shooting?"

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "No. I'll just put a scope on."

"Night-vision?" I asked. "How would that help?"

"It wouldn't." She closed her eyes as if she were tired and bored with our conversation. "But a heat detector scope would."

"What if you shot me by accident?"

She looked at me, leveling me. "I wouldn't. I'm not that careless."

"I know," I said softly.

She stood up and headed for the fridge. We had been driving the roads for hours, so long that we had missed lunch. And it was definitely past dinnertime as well. But instead of standing up and getting myself something to eat, I just watched Cayden.

Because I might not get another chance. If she left to be with jack, I had a feeling that she wasn't going to be coming back to the CIA. And even if she did come back to the CIA, I probably wouldn't be put on anymore missions with her. I'd never had a mission with a sniper before, after all. I probably wouldn't have one again.

She finished making her sandwich and began putting everything back where it belonged. I just watched her smooth, graceful motions. I observed the way that she moved and the way that her ponytail swung from side to side. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her that I was sorry, but I knew that she would never accept it. Not now.

So, instead, I stood up and headed for my room, wishing that I could just sleep the rest of the mission away.

When I laid down and picked up Cayden's scent on the pillows, I began to cry, softly at first, and then louder until I was sure that my heart was no longer there.


	39. To Prepare

**To Prepare**

_Joe_

It was absolutely miserable without her. Every second it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I'd had broken bones before, of course, and several gunshot wounds, but I'd never been hurt like this. And I was certain that I would never hurt like this again. It just couldn't be possible. Cayden leaving me was the worst pain that there was in the world. Nothing could compare. Nothing.

She was going back to him. I'd known that it was a possibility, but that didn't make it any easier. My worst fears had been confirmed. We would never say our vows or have a house all to ourselves. We would be two separate people, and I would always be wondering about her. I would see people playing chess in the park and see Cayden winning. I would hear her laugh with the wind and smell her even when she wasn't anywhere near. What if she retired from the CIA completely? I was sure that the thought had crossed her mind. She was a smart girl and with her connections, she could fake any degree that she wanted, acquire any job that she desired. She could make herself disappear off of the face of the earth. And there was a possibility – a huge possibility – that even I wouldn't be able to find her.

But what good would it do me to find her? It's not like she would be inviting me into her house for dinner and a movie. She wouldn't want anything to do with me. But I would need to see her, even if she wouldn't see me. I just needed to be able to go and make sure that everything was okay. That she was happy and free. That she was still the same beautiful woman that I knew.

I walked to the window and saw her outside, practicing with her rifle. It was cold outside and it made me nervous that she only had on a couple of layers of clothes. But, I supposed, she wasn't really my responsibility anymore. But that didn't make the worry go away. I would always worry about her. Even though she wasn't mine.

But oh, how I wanted her to be. My bed felt so empty. My _life_ felt so empty, and she hadn't even left yet. She was still here. There was still a chance – though it was extremely small – that I could make her see my point of view. There was a chance that she would forgive me.

But how would I go about that? It's not like I could just go up and talk to her; she would either completely ignore me or punch me. Leaving her a note wouldn't work either; there's no way that she would pick up a note that she knew I had written her. She would probably start a fire outside just to burn it, if she would even touch it at all.

_There has to be a way_.

I thought and thought as I went about cleaning the house, just for something to do. I avoided Cayden's room, though. I didn't want to even think about what she would do if she came in from shooting and found me in her room. I had a mission to carry out and I needed to be alive in order to carry it out.

_I could really use Matt's advice right now._

But, of course, that wasn't possible.

_Cayden_

The last shot went off and I saw that I had hit the target, though it wasn't where I had intended. In fact, I hadn't hit _any_ of the targets where I intended. But at least I hit them…

_That's not good enough and you know it._

I sighed as I disassembled the gun and put it back in its case. I'd been thinking all day, thinking so much that I had given myself a huge headache that even ibuprofen wouldn't cure. It was, of course, about Joe and Jack, the two men that were tearing me apart from the inside.

After I'd had ample time to cool off, I had realized that what I had said to Joe that night was wrong. He _did_ mean something to me. But he had lied to me, and I just didn't know what that had changed. But something was different, I could feel it.

And I had Jack to think about. He was the man that I loved and he was alive and I could go back to him. Still, a skeptical voice in my head spoke up. _How do you know that he wants to see you? After all, he hid all of these years from you. Why did he leave without saying goodbye? He could have left you a note or some clue, but he didn't. He just disappeared. _

"He loves me," I whispered out loud as I headed for the house. "He does. And he wants me back."

In the house, I went straight to my room and put my gun away before I got into the shower. The warm water cured my skin of its numbness and when I got out, I felt rejuvenated. But I was still confused. Because I knew that I loved Joe. I loved him very much. Maybe even as much as I loved Jack….

_Don't say that! It isn't true!_

"Yes," I whispered to myself. "I think that it is."

I pulled on a T-shirt and some sweatpants, ready to completely relax before the mission tomorrow. And then it would all be over and I could…

Could what? What was I going to do when this was over?

Who was I going to go to and be with for the rest of my life?

_Jack_.

Joe…

Jack had left, and the reason didn't matter; he had left, plain and simple. He was alive now and as far as I knew, he wasn't looking for me.

Joe was still here, hurting because I had (in every sense but physically) left him. Was Jack hurting for me or did he even care? The information hadn't said that he was married…

God, all of this was giving me such a headache.

I groaned and pulled my hair up into a ponytail so that I wouldn't have to mess with it.

"I just need some food," I said to myself. "Maybe if I just eat a little bit, I'll be ready to think all of this through."

I opened the door to my bedroom and headed for the stairs, and that's when I heard it.

Joe was singing.

"Well I'm shameless when it comes to loving you. I'd do anything you want me to. I'd do anything at all." It sounded like he was singing directly to me. But he had no way of knowing that I was there, did he? I hadn't made any noise; snipers were trained to be as silent as the death that they delivered. "And I'm standing here for all the world to see; there ain't that much left of me that has very far to fall."

Billy Joel. I had used to love listening to his songs, but Jack hadn't been too crazy about him. And _Shameless_ was one of my favorite Billy Joel songs, right up there with _Vienna_ and _Piano Man_. Had Joe known that? Had I told him once during one of our long night conversations?

"You know I'm not a man who's ever been insecure about the world I've been living in. I don't break easy, I have my pride, but if you need to be satisfied… I'm shameless, baby I don't have a prayer. Anytime I see you standing there, I go down upon my knees. And I'm changing. I swore I'd never compromise, but you convinced me otherwise. I'll do anything you please."

It still felt like he knew that I was there; that he was singing directly to me. And I felt it, too, that warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"You see in all my life, I've never found, what I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down. I could walk away from anyone I ever knew, but I can't walk away from you. I've never let anything have this much control over me. I've worked too hard to call my life my own. Yes I made myself a word and it's worked so perfectly. But it's your world now, I can't refuse; I never had so much to lose. I'm shameless…"

I stepped down a few of the steps and I saw him sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, a painful look on his face as he sang, true emotions coming out. He made it sound like he had written this song for me. That he loved me so much…

"You know it should be easy for a man who's strong, to say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong. I've never lost anything I ever missed…"

My decision was clear. I loved him far too much to walk away from him. I stepped down the last step and joined in the singing, trying to portray my emotions through the song. "But I've never been in love like this. Oh, it's out of my hands. I'm shameless. I don't have the power now. But I don't want it anyhow, so I gotta let it go."

He joined me, a look of pure joy in his eyes. "I'm shameless, shameless as a man can be. You can make a total fool of me. I just wanted you to know."

I sang the next word loud and strong, clear. "I'm shameless…."

We were both silent for a few moments after I had finished the note, and then he took a tentative step forward. "Cayden…I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner and I-"

I held up a hand to cut him off. "I understand why you didn't. I'm not saying that what you did was right; I'm just saying that I understand. And I'm sorry, too; I didn't mean what I said. You mean so much to me, Joe. So much."

When was the last time I had let somebody see into my soul?

He beamed and his eyes were shining as he stepped forward. "This isn't a dream, right?"

I laughed and shook my head, suddenly feeling all of the weight leave my body. No more anger. "No, Joe. This isn't a dream. I'm here, I love you, and I'm not leaving."

He closed the distance between us in a split second and then he was kissing me as passionately as he could muster. I kissed him back, feeling the stirring inside of me, and then he pulled away. "I love you," he breathed. "I love you so much."

"I know." I clung to him tightly, never wanting to let him go. He would never leave me, not even the way that Jack had.

"And you're sure that you choose me over Jack?" he asked me as he pulled back to look into my eyes. "I would understand if you-'

I shook my head. "Jack left me. He didn't even try to say goodbye. And you're the one that I really love. But…"

"But what?" he asked.

"There's something I want…"

"Name it," he declared solemnly and I knew that if I asked him to move the earth, he'd get right down to it.

"I want to go and see him. Not to be with him or anything, but just to ask him why. I have to know the truth."

He nodded at me. "That's a perfectly reasonable request."

He would have said it was a reasonable request if I had asked him to stand on his head and juggle grapefruits. I smiled at him. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be thanking me. I should be thanking you."

I smirked at him as I grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind me. "There'll be time for that."


	40. To Fight

**Consider this quick update an apology for taking so long to update last time! Sorry!**

**To Fight**

_Joe_

Even the weather seemed to be holding its breath – it was dark and gloomy and there was zero wind (which Cayden said was an extremely good thing, but still). I couldn't help but stare at the clouds and wonder if it was some type of omen.

"Joe?"

I turned to see that Cayden had sat up in the bed, finally awake. I had actually been surprised that she hadn't woken up when I'd gotten out of the bed to go and stare out the window. But, I guess she'd just gotten used to my presence. "Hey," I said softly. "You should go back to sleep."

She pulled the covers back away from her. "So should you."

Yes, I should. "I'm fine."

She stood up, my T-shirt and boxer shorts looking extremely huge on her petite frame. Her hair was wild, but it looked beautiful all of the same. "Joe," she whispered as she came over to me and wrapped her arms around my middle. She smelled of me, I realized, and not so much of vanilla and lilac.

She was mine.

I kissed the crown of her head and held her tight. "I love you."

She replied, "I know. I love you, too."

"I know."

She stepped out of my arms just enough to smile at me. "When all of this is over, I've been thinking that maybe we should go somewhere relaxing. A private island or-"

I interrupted. "For our honeymoon?"

She grinned at me. "Why not? We can have a quick wedding in Vegas or something and then…go."

I nodded. "That sounds amazing, actually."

She stepped closer and kissed me. "I was desperately hoping that you would agree."

"Desperately, huh?"

She giggled and stepped away from me. "I'm gonna go ahead and take a shower. Why don't you double check the equipment?"

I nodded and watched her go, letting the door shut behind her before I finally moved away to check the comms, the Napotine patches, and especially Cayden's gun.

_Cayden_

I held fast to his hand and looked out the window as the trees passed. My stomach turned and I contributed it to nervousness. Usually, I wasn't nervous for missions, but this one was different, if only because I was worried about someone other than myself. After all, Joe was the one that was going to go in and risk his life. I only had to wait for him to get Dominic in front of the window to pull the trigger.

"Don't be worried about me," he said softly. "I'll be fine. I've done this hundreds of times."

I nodded my head. "So have I."

He squeezed my hand. "Have you been to Belgium?"

The random change in subject surprised me. "What?"

"Belgium," he repeated. "I thought it would be nice to go somewhere that we haven't been before."

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, I've been to Belgium. They have the most amazing fries there."

"Switzerland?"

"My first mission was in Switzerland."

"Paris?"

"Freshman year field trip."

"Rome?"

"Sophomore year field trip."

He thought for a moment. "Um, what about Africa?"

"I've been on more missions there than I can count. And there's not really much to see."

"Egypt?" he asked, and then, "Never mind, I've been there. How about Rio?"

"Been there."

He sighed. "This is going to be so difficult."

I smiled over at him. "But memorable. Very memorable."

"I hope so," he smiled back at me.

_Joe_

We reached the spot where we had agreed to park the car. "You have your set of keys, right?"

She nodded and held them up to show me.

"Good."

We got out of the car and loaded everything we needed before we began to walk. The streets were deserted and the whole feel of the place made me shiver. Still, I held tight to Cayden's hand and we climbed up onto the roof together. I watched her as she assembled her gun, her ponytail neat so that no wisps would fly into her face while she was trying to shoot.

She aimed at the window, adjusted something, and then nodded before setting it down. "It's perfect."

"Good," I said and held out her comms unit. "Let's test these out."

She put it in and we walked the whole length of the room from each other and talked. Finally, we pronounced them good.

I took a deep breath and looked at the building and then into Cayden's bright blue eyes. "Okay, then. Here it goes."

She nodded and glanced at the building as well, as if she was contemplating something. Then, she looked at me and pleaded, "Be careful."

I smiled at her and put my hands on her hips. "I was about to tell you the exact same thing."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be serious right now."

"So am I." I pulled her closer and kissed her passionately. "You be careful, too."

"I'm just going to be up here on the roof. You're the one that's going inside."

I shrugged. "Anything can happen. Watch yourself."

She nodded. "I will."

I kissed her again and then said, "Meet you at the car."

_Cayden_

I watched him leave and felt something constrict in my stomach. Even though I shouldn't have been thinking like that, I got a glimpse of the last time that I had seen Jack and I felt tears come to my eyes. I couldn't lose Joe. I loved him too much.

_Stop thinking like that_.

I sighed and picked up my gun to try and relax myself. And, I heard the song play in my head.

"_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful, stop me and steal my breath. And emeralds from mountains, thrust toward the sky, never revealing their depth. Tell them that we belong together, dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

"_And rain falls angry on the tin roof, as we lie awake in my bed. You're my survival, you're my living proof. My love is alive, not dead. Tell me that we belong together. Dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

My stomach turned and I felt like I was going to puke. I'd never been this nervous for a mission before. I didn't even feel nervous; just kind of off. But that might have been worse, because being off might affect my shot, and I didn't want that. If Joe forced Dominic in front of the window and I was off by even a half inch, I could hit Joe.

_I won't be off. I just won't. I can't be. _

And I wouldn't be. One shot, one kill. That had always been the sniper code and I was going to live by it.

_Joe_

I walked on the street, the cold wind chilling my face. Hardly anyone was out, which was an extremely good thing. That meant that no one would notice me.

When I got close to the warehouse, I took a right and went down a backstreet. Sticking to the plan, I clung to the shadows and made my way closer to the building using the backstreets that had taken forever to memorize. And, finally, I got to the building's power source.

"I'm cutting the wire," I told Cayden. "Are you ready?"

Through the comms unit, she replied, "Do it."

I cut the wire and then quickly ran towards the building before anyone could figure out what was going on. I found the door without too much trouble and pulled the handle.

It worked.

"I'm in."

"Be careful."

I smiled. "Always."

_Cayden_

I held my gun tightly in my hands and tried to breathe normally. It was going to be a while before Joe could get Dominic in front of the window, but I wished that it would just happen. I wanted to get it over with so that Joe and I could just fly back to the United States and start a life somewhere.

But, first, a stop at Jack's was in order.

I didn't want back with him; I just had to know why he ran away. I had to know why he let me slip into a depression because I believed him to be dead. Or, maybe, I just wanted to see his face again and hear his voice. Yes, I knew that it wasn't going to be the same, but maybe I was just hoping. Maybe I just wanted to be on that soccer field, listening to him yelling out orders and demonstrating new kicks. In a sense, I kind of wanted to be back in my junior year of high school.

But, I had Joe. I loved Joe; I trusted him. I wanted to be with him. So I chose to live in the here and now. Because nothing else really mattered.

Part of me had even been debating not going to see Jack at all.

Especially since…

_Joe_

The building was dark, just like it was supposed to be, but the night vision contacts were working wonders. I had already taken out two people and stuffed them into closets so that their bodies wouldn't raise alarm to anyone else. My presence needed to remain a secret for as long as possible.

"I'm on the opposite side of the building," I whispered, knowing that Cayden could hear me. "Completely dark, but I can see just fine. How are you holding up?"

"Fine," she said like I was stupid. I could hear the implication. _All I'm doing is standing here holding a gun and you're right in the war zone. Just hurry up so that we can take this guy out and go home_. I smiled, even though the present situation didn't exactly merit it.

"This is going to be over soon. The wind still good?"

"There's virtually no wind to speak of," she replied. "But if I had to shoot right now, I'd be fine, yes."

"Good."

A man rounded the corner and I took him out quickly and dragged his body away. "I'm doing really good so far. Should be there before too long."

"Just hurry."

I nodded to myself and took off at a light run, knowing that a lot of men were down in the basement messing with a backup generator. And when that generator began to work, the lights would come on and I could be discovered within seconds. And that would not be a very good thing. Not a good thing at all. "I know, sweetheart. I'm trying."

_Cayden_

I sighed and began to pace, even though that was a horrible habit. I just couldn't help it. I hated him being in there and me being useless up on the roof. I hated having a small job in a big plot. All I had to do was make a shot. He was the one that had to go in, take people out, and set it up so that I would have the perfect shot. I'd never felt more useless in my entire life.

I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about the danger that he was in. I wished that we could just call off the mission and go home and start a new life together. We could use the CIA to create names and lives. We could just be happy together.

But, as much as I wished it, I knew that it wouldn't happen. Wishing doesn't make it so, as a wise man once told me.

But oh how I wanted that to be the case, if only this once.


	41. To Sacrifice

**To Sacrifice**

_Cayden_

It had been about ten minutes since I'd talked to Joe. I considered saying something to him, but I didn't want to be a bother or for him to get distracted. So, I bit my lip and aimed my rifle again, just to check. But, nothing had changed. And that was the problem. Something needed to happen. Anything at all.

A cool wind blew by and stung at my face. It was cold outside and I was tempted to get out some hand warmers. Instead, I got my headband out of the pocket of my jacket and slipped it on. It helped a little bit, but not much. The only thing that would truly help would be Jack and I flying home.

_Joe_

I'd been an operative long enough to draw valid conclusions. And my conclusion was that Dominic knew that I was here. I hadn't run into anyone in a while and I was almost to Dominic's office, which wasn't good. Surely, he would have some kind of guard up. I mean, I would, if I were him.

It was just too quiet; it gave me goosebumps. But, I pushed open the door to his office anyway and found just what I had thought would be there. No one. There was a desk and a computer and a lamp and a bunch of other things that you would be able to find in a typical office.

But the man that I wanted wasn't in there.

"Dominic's not in his office," I reported to Cayden.

Her voice came through quickly, as if she had been waiting for me to speak. "He's not?"

"No." I quickly scanned the office, but I found nothing of interest. "His computer is still on; everything appears normal. It's just weird."

"Get out of there, Joe."

I'd known that she was going to say that. "I can't yet, Cayden. Maybe he's down below in the basement, working to get the generator up and running."

"Joe-"

"I'm just going to take a quick peek."

"Joe, I can't shoot him if he's in the basement. The basement doesn't have any window access at all."

I nodded slowly; she was right. "I'll just see if he's down there and if he is, I'll tail him back up. I'll get him in front of the window and you can shoot."

"Joe." I could hear the fear in her voice. "I don't think that we should change the plan. Just get out of there."

"I can't yet." I walked back to the office door and out into the hall. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something."

"Joe!"

But I ignored her and headed down the hall, towards the door of the basement. I knew that she wouldn't try to talk to me again, for fear of distracting me. Did she not understand that I just wanted to get this mission over with as quickly as possible so that we could just go home? I had to go down there.

_Cayden_

I ripped the comms out of my ear. "IDIOT!" I shouted to the sky, but it was carried away by the strong wind that had seemingly come from nowhere. Even if Dominic had been in front of the window, I would have had difficulty hitting him where I wanted to because of the wind. It was ferocious.

Everything, it seemed, had changed for the worse. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I thought about the last time that I had seen Jack. About how we'd had a casual conversation instead of one that had actually meant something. I thought about how you can never really know when it's going to be your last time to see someone. Things can change in only a moment, especially in a spy's world. And in a spy's world, it's worse, because sometimes, they never come home. Sometimes, there's no evidence that they're dead. Sometimes, part of you always holds out hope that they're alive. And I didn't want that to happen.

I got out a tool to measure the wind and did the calculations in my head. It wasn't going to be an impossible shot, but it would be very hard.

I just wanted to get the shot over with. I felt sick, knowing what he was doing in there and that he could be caught.

"Please, Joe," I muttered as my stomach knotted up and I collapsed to my knees, tears from the wind and from my sudden emotions stinging at my eyes. "Just get out of there. Please."

As the wind picked up even more speed, I leaned over to the side and emptied my breakfast onto the rooftop.

And I knew.

_Joe_

I did feel kind of bad for ignoring Cayden. But, this mission needed to be over with and quickly. After the mission, we could fly home and take some time off from the CIA to get married and go on a honeymoon and buy a house.

I was doing this for us.

The basement stairs didn't even creak as I descended them.

I could hear voices.

"Just make sure that the wiring is correct."

"Does anyone know how to move this thing?"

"Here, we need four more people on this side."

"Ouch! That was my foot!"

I could see flashlight beams all over the place and I sunk down so that a stray beam wouldn't catch me and give away my position.

The best time to nab Dominic, of course, would have been then, in the dark. But, it was too dark for me to be able to see which one was him. (If he was even there at all.) I kind of had a suspicion that he had run out to get something. If so, that would be the worst luck that I'd ever had on a mission. Then again, if he was out and was heading back to the building, then Cayden would spot him coming in the door and she could take that shot.

I crept a little closer, still listening to the men as they scuttled around, running into each other and cursing. Of course, they were speaking Italian, but I could understand them perfectly.

"Can somebody get a flashlight over here?"

"Stefan, is that you?"

"I'm over here!"

"Does anybody know how to hook this up?"

"Why didn't we hook this up sooner?"

Flashlight beams continued to trail across the floor and the walls and I desperately wished that I could see Dominic. The longer that I stayed where I was, the better the chance was of me getting caught.

"Where's the power button?"

"Over here, but don't push it yet; we're not done with the wires."

"Hurry up!"

I almost laughed. It was like a cartoon, without being able to see the characters on the screen. You could hear people running into each other and hitting the floor. You could hear people cursing because someone stepped on their foot. I know that my situation really wasn't funny at all, but it was just slightly humorous listening to all of that.

"Here; I think that's it."

_Oh no._ I didn't want them to be able to get the lights back up, but, then again, if they got the lights going, then I would be able to see Dominic. I would run back upstairs as quietly as possible and hide in his office and wait. And then, when he came in, I would take out the people with him and get him in front of that window. I could just take him out myself, but the CIA director wanted it to be a gunshot so that people would think that a rival drug lord had ordered the shooting. And who was I to argue?

"Okay; go for it."

And then the lights came on.

And Dominic was looking right at me.

I had no idea what to do. Running wasn't going to work because he could probably get the building locked down. Or just have me shot.

I was trapped.

He smiled. "Well, no one informed me that we had a guest."

Two men that were close grabbed me and drug me forward. I was trying to figure out what to do, but I couldn't come up with anything at all. Saying that I worked for him wasn't an option because he only hired Italians and I was clearly not Italian.

He stepped closer, still smiling at me. "Who are you?"

I didn't answer; I was still trying to think of a way out. But there was no way I could take out everyone in the room if I didn't have a gun and most of them did.

"Not talking?" He stepped closer. "Then tell me who you work for."

Again, I said nothing. He probably wouldn't have believed me if I said the CIA anyway.

He sighed. "Oh, well. Whoever it is you work for, they just won't be getting that information. Hopefully that will be a lesson to them."

I still had no plan.

Dominic snapped his fingers and a man stepped forward, drawing a gun.

"Kill him," Dominic said simply.

The man nodded and aimed at my forehead.

I wanted to yell through the comms at Cayden to tell her to get out, but I couldn't do that without revealing that someone was with me. And I didn't want them hunting her down.

_It was stupid of me to come down here_, I admitted to myself. _I should have listened to Cayden and left._

A shot rang out, but I wasn't dead. There was no pressure, no indication that a bullet had hit me.

Everyone else seemed confused, as well, when the gunman dropped to the floor, blood coming out of his mouth.

And then, there were four more gunshots and four more of the men dropped dead.

And that's when I saw Cayden, standing at the base of the stairs, aiming a gun.

_Oh no._

Dominic saw her, too. "Kill her! Kill them both!"

And I snapped into action.

_Cayden_

He had been so stupid for coming down to the basement and getting himself caught. I was going to give him hell about it later.

I shot a few more men and then I had to rely on martial arts because a mob of them was attacking me. It truly made me grateful that I had let Joe teach me martial arts because otherwise, I would have been doomed.

But I was winning. The men that Dominic had as guards were big, sure, but they didn't really know how to fight properly. And I didn't really care about killing them; I just wanted them knocked out so that they couldn't try to hurt me anymore. And it was going great so far.

"Cayden, get out!" I heard Joe yell.

But I wasn't going to and I think that he knew that. There was no way that I was going to flee and leave him behind. And, besides, if I tried to flee, they would come after me. Or it would give them just enough time to draw their guns. They probably weren't as good of shots as I was, but they could probably hit me if I was a mere five feet in front of them. That wasn't too hard to do.

"Retreat!" one of the Italian men said and I heard footsteps going up the stairs.

_Good; they're scared of us._

"No!" Dominic yelled after them, his face red with anger. "Come back here, cowards!"

Joe knocked one more guy out and as he wheeled around, Dominic pulled out a gun. "Fine! I'll take care of it myself."

Joe and I were close to each other, so close that I could have reached out and touched him.

Dominic moved his finger to the trigger.

Joe moved to the side, intending to move us out of the way.

But he was wrong.

He should have been pulling us the other way.

I knew where the bullet was going to go.

So, as Dominic pulled the trigger, I moved and offered myself up as a sacrifice.


	42. To Die

**To Die**

_Cayden_

It didn't hurt like I had thought it would. I'd shot people before, but obviously I had never been on the receiving end of a shot before. But it didn't feel like I had thought that it would. Sure, there was a bit of pressure and a sensation of being out of body, but it didn't hurt.

Actually, it felt like I was floating away.

_Joe_

I watched Cayden fall, as if in slow motion. A sound of rage escaped from my throat and I lunged forward to catch her before she could hit the ground. Almost instantly, my hands were covered in blood. I had no idea where she'd been hit, but I didn't care. She'd been hit and I wanted him to shoot me, too.

And he would have, if someone hadn't yelled down, "Dominic! There are agents here!"

_What is the CIA doing here_? I wondered, but then I remembered that Cayden and I had let them know when we were going in. They were coming because they thought the job was done and they wanted to sweep the place for any information available.

But the job wasn't done.

Cayden had been shot.

And it was my fault.

Dominic holstered his gun. "Get out of here! Now!"

Footsteps ran away but I didn't care. My eyes were only on Cayden.

_Cayden_

My mind was racing. I saw the most random memories of my life. _Is this what they mean by 'your life flashing before your eyes'?_

I could see Jack on the soccer field, demonstrating a complicated corner kick.

I could see myself laughing with my friends on the soccer team after a rigorous game.

I could see myself with Joe; see the moment that he had proposed to me.

I could see us together, Joe and I, playing chess.

_He never got a chance to beat me_.

"Cayden!" The voice sounded far away, as if someone was shouting at me through a tunnel.

"Cayden!"

_Joe_

I was shouting at her, but I didn't really think that she was hearing me. Her eyes were open; I could see the gorgeous blue of them fading slightly to an ice blue.

She was slipping away.

"Cayden!" Tears stung at my eyes and then began to fall. And I didn't care that I was crying; I didn't care who saw. "Cayden, come on! Please!"

Footsteps were coming down the stairs. "CIA!"

I didn't respond. Instead, I gently lowered Cayden onto the ground. "Come on," I whispered. "Please, Cayden."

"Joe?"

I looked up and saw Judd Booker, an agent that I had trained with before. His eyes were wide as he took in all of the blood. "Is that…is that Cayden Sanders?"

"Get an ambulance," I said, the steadiness of my voice calming me. "Now."

He ran off, shouting, "Get an ambulance now!"

I leaned down towards Cayden, surprised that she smelled the same as always – vanilla and lilac. I couldn't lose that smell; I couldn't lose her. But, the blood was staining the concrete floor and even getting into Cayden's ponytail of blonde hair.

"Cayden, please just hang on. An ambulance is coming. You're going to be okay, please. Just hold on."

But I received no reply and I began to cry again.

_Cayden_

I could feel myself being lifted. Not the same kind of lifted that had made me separate from my body, but the kind of lifting that was moving my actual body. It hurt a little bit, but I couldn't say anything in protest. My brain wouldn't send the signals to allow me to speak.

_Please stop_, I wanted to say. _Just leave me be._

Instead of blood, I felt the life seeping out of me. But then, someone was stopping it up with something, trying to keep it inside of me.

_Just stop; it's no use. I am going to die. Can't you see that?_

Some kind of mask was put over my face.

_Leave me alone_.

But they wouldn't.

_Joe_

They lifted her onto the stretcher and then began to wheel her out of the room.

I wanted to move, to follow, but I couldn't. I was frozen on my knees, looking at all of the blood on the floor.

There was so much of it…

"Joe?"

I looked up to see Mr. Irving looking at me sadly. "Joe, what happened to Cayden?"

I spoke in a monotone, the tears still sliding down my cheeks. "Dominic wasn't in his office so I came down here, even though Cayden told me not to. And the lights came on and he saw me and they were going to shoot me. Cayden came bursting in and there was a fight and we were winning. But then Dominic pulled a gun and I was going to pull Cayden out of the way, but she knew where the bullet was really going to go and she…she jumped in front of it."

He nodded slowly. "Why do you think she did that, Joe?"

"We are engaged," I whispered.

He looked surprised. "You two were engaged?"

I realized that I had said _are_ and he had said _were_. He didn't think that she was going to make it. "Yes."

He nodded slowly. "You love her."

"So much."

"And she loves you."

_She has to,_ I thought, _for her to take a bullet for me_. "Where are they taking her?"

"There's a CIA hospital a twenty minute helicopter ride from here."

I nodded slowly. "I want…I want to go."

He nodded. "There's another helicopter waiting outside. You can come with me."

I stood. "Let's go."

I followed him outside and the wind was blowing something awful. It hadn't been blowing when I had gone in, which meant that it had picked up suddenly. Had Cayden known that she wasn't going to make a shot in this wind? Was that why she had come in? Why wouldn't she have just talked to me through the comms units?

Why couldn't it have been me instead of her?

_Cayden_

Hands were all over me, trying to help me. Save me. Didn't they realize that I was beyond saving? Why wouldn't they just inject me with something so that I could die faster? It was horrible to have to deal with this weird sensation. I knew that I was going to die eventually, why wouldn't they just save me the suffering? But, no; they were trying to save my life. And it was all in vain. They were probably transferring me to some CIA hospital, but I was pretty sure that I was going to be dead before we reached it, wherever it was.

And then, I heard singing. But it didn't sound like any voice I had ever heard before.

"_My heart is sad; my soul is weary, while sailing o'er life's rugged way. The clouds are dark, the day is dreary; It seems all earthly help is vain. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."_

It was almost an other worldly type of voice.

"_There is no earthly friend to guide me; no one to point to heaven's goal. But Christ the Savior stays beside me; to cheer and comfort my poor soul. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."_

I had never believed in religion before, but I thought that maybe I should. After all, I had no idea what was going to happen after I died. I didn't know if I was going to go to heaven or hell, or if those places even existed. I didn't know if I was going to be reincarnated or if that was just it for me. If my soul was just going to disappear.

_What happens after you die?_ I wondered.

And another part of me said that I was going to find out soon.

_Joe_

As soon as we got to the hospital, I demanded to see Cayden.

"You can't, honey," a nurse told me as if I were a five year old with an impossible request instead of a love-driven man. "She's in surgery right now."

"What kind of surgery?"

The nurse looked at me and pursed her lips as if I was being a nuisance. "They're trying to remove the bullet."

"Is she going to be okay?"

She looked at me again and spoke slowly, as if I were retarded. I really wanted to hurt her. I felt like reaching out and putting her in a chokehold or something. I wanted her to feel the kind of pain that I did. But, I had to remind myself that it wasn't her fault.

It was mine.

"We're not sure yet," she answered me. "It's too soon to tell."

"When will you know?"

"We'll have a doctor come and talk to you as soon as we know something," she told me.

Mr. Irving's hand was suddenly on my shoulder, firm and strong. "Joe," he said softly. "Why don't you go to the bathroom down the hall and shower and change? We have some fresh clothes waiting for you."

I didn't want to, but I went to the bathroom that he had indicated and found some fresh clothes waiting for me. So, I stripped out of my bloody clothes and got into the shower, the water too hot (not that I really even noticed).

I had to scrub hard to get all of the blood off, but eventually I got it taken care of. I didn't bother washing my hair – I saw no point in that. Having super clean hair wasn't going ot help Cayden, it would just waste time. Then, I toweled off and changed into the jeans and the T-shirt and hoodie that had been left for me. I put on the tennis shoes and then walked out of the bathroom, intent on finding out more.

_Cayden_

Something had been cutting into me for nearly twenty minutes.

And I thought that it was about time for that to stop. There was really no point in them trying to save something that was beyond saving.

"_At last the harbor I am nearing; I see the lights along the shore. I hear my friends and loved ones cheering; I'll soon be safe forevermore. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love. Bear me over the deep. To that heaven above. When the shadows shall fall. And the Savior shall call. Angels rock me to sleep. In the cradle of love."_

As the last verse of the song ended, I finally slipped away into a strange, albeit familiar abyss.

_Joe_

Mr. Irving finished asking me his questions and then he stood up. "I'll leave you alone now, Joe. The helicopter pilot will be waiting to take you where you need to go."

I nodded and stood up to shake his hand. "Thank you, sir."

He gave me a sad smile. "I hope she's alright."

"Me too."

He nodded and then he turned around and left.

And only a few minutes later, a doctor in green scrubs came into the waiting room.

Immediately, I was on my feet, trying to read the signs on his face. "Doctor."

He nodded at me. "I'm Doctor White. You must be Joe."

I nodded my head. "Doctor…" I almost didn't want to ask the question. "Is she…how's Cayden?"

"The shot was very fatal, I'm afraid."

I felt like I was going to collapse, but somehow, I stayed on my feet. "She's…" I took a deep breath. "Please…"

He gave me a sad smile and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Solomon. Ms. Sanders didn't make it."


	43. To Know

**To Know**

_Joe_

I didn't feel strange at all as I walked up the path that led to the house. Nothing had changed at all, except for the grass being dead and not as fresh and green as I remembered it. The same tree stood in the front yard and the same wind chimes hung by the front door. The same porch swing was there, the same welcome mat was right in front of the front door.

I had to make myself refrain from just walking in. After all, it hadn't been my home in a long time. So, I rang the doorbell and stepped back to wait, my hands in my pockets.

When she opened the door, I took in the image of my mother. She had shrunk a few inches and her hair was gray and in a bun. She wore jeans and a blue blouse, and she was smiling, but it faded when she saw me and her hand flew to her chest. "Joe?"

"Mom," I said, my voice cracking.

I expected her to slam the door in my face. I expected her to shout at me for not coming to my father's funeral. But I didn't expect her to pull me into a hug and begin crying and telling me how much she had missed me.

But that's exactly what she did.

I wrapped my arms around her, too, and said, "I missed you too, Mom."

After the initial sobbing was over, she wiped her eyes and pulled me into the house. And I wasn't surprised that it smelled the same as always. In fact, it almost made me smile.

Almost.

"Sit down," she insisted when we reached the kitchen. "I was just about to take some snickerdoodles out of the oven."

My mom's snickerdoodles were the best around. She got them kind of hard, but that's what made them so perfect. All that you had to do was dunk them in milk and hold them there until they were soft. And that's when they were perfect.

I sat down at the small kitchen table and looked around at all of the photos that she had hanging up. I was surprised to see that I was in a few of them.

"I just got back from a trip to Germany," she commented. "I'm trying to do a bit of traveling as I get older."

"You're only sixty," I commented.

"That's old, honey," she laughed.

She was talking to me as if I had never left.

She took the cookies out of the oven and put a few on a plate before pouring a glass of milk and bringing them to me. "Here you are."

"Thank you."

She sat down beside me and grinned as I dunked the first cookie into the milk. "I'm sorry that I didn't come to Dad's funeral."

She nodded, her smile never fading. "I understand why you didn't, sweetheart. Part of me held out hope that you would show up, but I wasn't shocked when you didn't."

I nodded slowly and took my first bite. And it was as amazing as I remembered. When I had swallowed, I said, "Everyone at the church doing well?"

"They are," she nodded. "I'm surprised that you thought to ask of them."

I shrugged and took another bite.

She touched my hand. "What's wrong, honey?"

Of course she could tell that there was something bothering me. Mothers could always tell, especially my mom. "It's a long story."

"We have plenty of time," she replied. "Your room is exactly where it's always been and you're spending the night, no ifs, ands, or buts."

"Okay."

"So," she said. "What is it?"

I ate another cookie before I began. "Do you remember that detention center that you sent me to?"

Her eyes grew dark and tears welled up. "Oh, sweetie, yes. And I'm so sorry for that-"

I held up a hand to stop her. "Forget it. Well, anyway, it wasn't really a detention center."

Her eyes widened. "Then what was it?"

I swallowed and took a breath. "It was a school for assassins."

"_Assassins_?" A hand flew to her throat. "Are you serious? Do you mean that they trained you to _kill_ people?"

I nodded. "Yeah, they did."

"Oh, Joe…"

I shook my head. "It's okay, Mom. You didn't know."

"Of course I didn't! If I had-"

I interrupted her. "After I got out of there, I went to work for the CIA as an assassin."

She gave me a sympathetic look. "Oh, I'm so sorry. If we hadn't-"

"I understand why you did," I told her. "And, in a way, I'm glad that you did. I forgave you a long time ago."

A tear fell but she wiped it away. "You always were very loving and forgiving."

I began to eat another cookie and she let me finish it before she said, "That's not the whole story, is it?"

I shook my head and drank the remains of my milk in less than five seconds. I drug the back of my hand across my mouth. "No, it's not."

"Then, continue."

I nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "I was recently sent on a mission to kill a drug lord and find out about some secret plans that he had to assassinate an American ambassador."

She looked scared. "Sounds dangerous."

I knew better than to lie. "It was. Anyway, it was going to be a long mission and they wanted it to look like another drug lord had killed him, not like the CIA had ordered him to be taken out. So, they needed a sniper."

"Are you a sniper too?" she asked, surprised.

I thought about my failed attempts at being a sniper with Cayden and I shook my head. "No. That's why they paired me up with one."

"Go on."

I looked down at my hands as I continued. "We stayed together in a safe house while we waited and we…" I breathed. "We grew really close."

"Did you fall in love with her?"

I had forgotten how intuitive my mother could be. I looked up at her. "Yes; I did."

"Did she love you back?"

"Yes," I replied. "She did."

My mother beamed at me. "Joe, that's wonderful!" But then, she saw the look on my face. "Isn't it?"

I shook my head. "I'm glad that I fell in love with Cayden, but…" I took another breath and fought back tears. "But she died on the mission. She died protecting me."

My mother gasped and covered my hands with hers. "Oh, Joe; I'm so sorry."

"Me too," I whispered. "I was being stupid. She was on the rooftop waiting to shoot and she told me not to go down to the basement to get the drug lord. But I didn't listen; I wanted the mission to be over. I wanted it to be over so that we could come home and get married…"

"Were you two engaged?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I was going to bring her to meet you. You would have loved her, Mom."

She smiled gently at me. "I'm sure that I would have."

I breathed out. "And she could sing. I mean, she could really sing. It was beautiful."

"What did she look like?"

"Blonde hair," I said. "Blue eyes. She was really petite, but she had muscle, too. She was really good at chess…"

"As I recall, you didn't inherit your father's gift of chess playing."

I shook my head. "No, I didn't."

"Do you want some tea, dear?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "Sure."

I knew that she was just leaving so that I could cry without her watching and I appreciated it. I realized then how much I had missed my mother. And how much I regretted not going to my father's funeral. Sure, I had been bitter towards him for sending me to Blackthorne, but that had turned out to be a good thing. If I hadn't been sent to Blackthorne, I never would have been trained as an assassin. And if I hadn't have been trained as an assassin, I never would have gone to work for the CIA. And if I had never gone to work for the CIA, I would have never gotten sent on that mission and I never would have met Cayden.

I wondered if that would have been better – not meeting Cayden. But then, I decided, it wouldn't have been. I was glad that I had met Cayden; glad that I had gotten the chance to love her.

My mother came back a few minutes later with tea and we began to talk some more about stuff that didn't matter one little bit. She told me that she was thinking about getting a dog and about the neighbors that had moved in after the Henshaws had moved away. She asked me questions about where I was living and if I had read any good books lately, but we didn't talk about the CIA or Cayden.

And then, I helped her with supper and she seemed impressed with all that I could do. So, I told her about going undercover at a culinary school and she, of course, wanted to hear all about it. So, I told her a little bit about that and then a little bit about some of my other missions.

Finally, it got late and she said that she needed to go to bed. "I keep going to bed earlier and earlier these days," she smiled. "I guess that happens as you get older."

She escorted me upstairs to my room, even though I told her that she didn't have to.

When I opened the door, I saw that nothing had changed. Even the clothes that had been strewn across the floor when I left where still where I had left them.

"I didn't change anything," she said softly. "I couldn't bring myself to. I guess part of me held out hope that you were going to come back."

I turned to her and saw the tears that fell from her eyes. I pulled her into a tight hug and said, "I'm here now, Mom. I'm here now."

"And I'm so glad," she replied and then pulled away and smiled at me. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

I nodded firmly. "Okay."

"Good night."

"Good night, Mom."

When she left, I shut the door and then moved to my bathroom to take a shower. Everything was exactly the same and it amazed me. I almost wanted to go into my little brother's room, just to see if she had messed with that at all, but I really didn't want to deal with his loss and Cayden's at the same time. So, I wisely decided to just leave it be and stay in my room.

I got out of the shower and threw on some clothes that I had brought before I moved to the bed, kind of tired myself. I hadn't been sleeping very well since Cayden had died, as you can imagine.

I had just pulled back the covers when my phone rang.

With a sigh, I moved towards my bag and grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Joe." It was Mr. Irving that spoke and I promised myself that if he gave me a mission, I was going to refuse. I didn't even care if I had to quit the CIA; I wasn't going to go. I had enough money to last me.

"Mr. Irving."

"Hate to bother you after I gave you time off, but there's something that you need to know."

"About what?" I asked.

"It's about Cayden."

I didn't want to hear it. "She's dead, Mr. Irving," I said. "There's really nothing that you can tell me. I know the cause of death; I know who killed her."

"Still, Joe," he said. "There's something that you need to know."

I sighed. "And what would that be?"

"Joe, at the time of death, Cayden Sanders was five weeks pregnant."


	44. To Go

**To Go**

_Joe_

My mom could see the look on my face as soon as I came down the next morning. "Joe," she asked. "What is it?"

"I'm going back to the safe house."

"The one you just used on the mission?"

I nodded and moved to grab a muffin from the pan. "I have to go back."

"But why?" she asked me, confused. "Is the mission not over?"

"Dominic has to die," I said.

She looked a little shocked to hear me say that. "Joe…why?"

I looked at her and made a valiant effort to fight back my tears. "She was pregnant, Mom."

Her hand flew to her throat and she gasped. "Oh my word."

"She was pregnant with my baby and he killed her."

"Oh, Joe."

I bit into my muffin, chewed, and swallowed. "I have to go back."

"Revenge isn't the answer, Joe," she said in a mothering sort of voice.

"This isn't the time to turn the other cheek, either." I polished off my muffin quickly and headed for the front door. "I'll come and visit again soon."

And I left the house and didn't look back.

*In Flight*

I could hear Cayden's singing, as if she were singing to me from heaven (which is where she had to be – she was much too beautiful not to be an angel).

"_It's the most wonderful time of the year._ _With the kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer. It's the most wonderful time of the year."_

"_It's the happ- happiest season of all. With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. It's the happ- happiest season of all." _

"_There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and caroling out in the snow. There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago. It's the most wonderful time of the year." _

I remembered when she had agreed to marry me and then the first time that we had been together. And that, of course, made me think about the shattering news that I had learned not even twenty-four hours before.

That Cayden was pregnant.

With _my_ baby.

I couldn't help but wonder if she had known.

Or maybe even suspected.

"_There'll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. It's the most wonderful time of the year." _

"_It's the most wonderful time of the year. There'll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. It's the most wonderful time. It's the most wonderful time. It's the most wonderful time… Of the year." _

You have no idea what I felt. It was like I was empty and yet, I felt a desire that burned brighter than any fire. Dominic was going to die. I was going to kill him and I was going to make sure that he knew why he was dying. It was going to be slow, it was going to be painful, and he deserved every bit of it.

God, I had no idea how all of this had happened. At first, I hadn't even known Cayden – hadn't really cared to – and then I had fallen head over heels for her. It should have been me that was in front of that bullet; I had _wanted _it to be me. I had been moving to try to make it me. But Cayden was the best shot that anyone would ever know. She had known where the bullet was really going. Maybe it had been the way that he was holding the gun or where exactly he was aiming it… Well, whatever she had seen, it had been accurate. And she was dead.

And I just couldn't stand it. I wanted to wake up in the morning and find her lying there in my arms, her blonde hair splaying across the pillow. I wanted to kiss her soft lips again and feel her arms wrap around me. I wanted to play chess with her again and lose because that's what always happened. I wanted to be the one that was going to be buried. I just wanted her to be alive. I wanted her to have another chance at a normal life. (Well, as normal of a life as anyone in our business could have.)

I looked down and estimated that we were about thirty minutes away. And after the pilot dropped me off, he was going to leave. I had it on good authority that Dominic hadn't fled too far away. I would be able to get there without a helicopter. And the pilot would be back to pick me up in a week. And Dominic would be dead.

"_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful, stop me and steal my breath. And emeralds from mountains, thrust toward the sky, never revealing their depth. Tell them that we belong together, dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

I was nervous about going back into the house. Being confronted with memories wasn't going to be good for me. I had no idea what to expect; I didn't know if I was going to break down and cry or if I would be able to hold it together. I wasn't sure what would happen.

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

"_And rain falls angry on the tin roof, as we lie awake in my bed. You're my survival, you're my living proof. My love is alive, not dead. Tell me that we belong together. Dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated; I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above."_

Tears came to my eyes when I thought about us dancing together, her body tucked into mine, a smile on her face.

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

I remembered how when we had danced, we had talked about telling the CIA director about our relationship. But that hadn't happened until after she had died. We hadn't gotten to go and get married; we hadn't gotten to have our honeymoon together. We hadn't been able to go house shopping and paint our living room together. We wouldn't be able to have the life together that both of us had wanted so badly.

"_And I've dropped out, I've burned up, I've fought my way back from the dead. I've tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said."_

"_I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your… I'll "I'll be your crying shoulder; I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life."_

"_The greatest fan of your life…"_

"_Greatest fan of your life."_

God, I missed her so much.

The helicopter began to descend and I looked down to see that my thoughts had taken me light years away. We were already landing. And just seeing the house made me feel a little bit sick.

"A team was here twenty minutes ago," the pilot called back to me. "They swept for bugs and hidden cameras. They told me to tell you that everything is all clear."

I nodded slowly and internally wondered if I would have the strength to go into that house alone. But, I figured, there was no time like the present to find out. "Thanks." My voice was surprisingly strong; I had gotten very good at hiding my true emotions.

I got out and headed for the house.

The helicopter took off and I watched it go before I took a deep breath and turned the door handle. Everything was exactly the same, and maybe that's what hit me so hard and made me double over to catch my breath. Nothing at all had changed; it almost looked like Cayden was going to come into the kitchen any minute and get started on another one of her fantastic recipes. I'd help her with it and then we would eat together and talk and… But, no. Not today.

I continued to walk through the house, taking slow and deliberate steps. I made it to the living room and looked at the Christmas tree that we had talked about taking down but never had. Dust had gathered on the chandelier and in a lot of other places; Cayden would have hated that.

_But Cayden's not here._

"Are you watching this, Cayden?" I whispered as tears stung at my eyes. "Do you see how much I'm hurting? It should have been me."

And then I looked at the bedroom door and asked the question that I would never know the answer to. "Did you know that you were pregnant with my baby?"

If she had known and she had just _told_ me, then I could have sent her back home. Another team could have come to do the job. The CIA would have understood something like that. And she would still be alive…

I took a breath and opened the bedroom door. As I did, I could see Cayden and I from that first night when we had been together. I could see us moving through the room, articles of clothing hitting the floor. I could hear our voices as we whispered to each other in the quiet moments afterward.

I glimpsed the bathroom through the cracked door and remembered the day that Cayden had thrown up. She'd claimed that she had just eaten her omelet too fast and she hadn't been running a fever. I had thought she'd caught some kind of bug. But she'd been pregnant. _Did she know then?_

But it was possible that she'd never known. Surely if she had, she would have told me. Right?

Then again, Cayden was strong and independent. Maybe she'd been waiting for the right time to tell me and then…

Why did things have to be so complicated?

I sat down on the bed and just looked around the room, steady tears running down my face and staining my jeans. But I didn't care. I didn't care about much of anything anymore.

_This must be what Rachel felt like,_ I thought to myself. _Except I feel worse. At least she didn't have to watch Matt be killed while he was trying to protect her after she made a stupid mistake._ Yes, mine was so much worse. And I knew that I would carry it with me for the rest of my life.

My life without Cayden.

The tears began to come a little faster and all of a sudden, I found myself praying to a God that I hadn't conversed with in a long time. Probably since I got carted off to Blackthorne.

"Heavenly Father," I whispered as I had all those years ago, when I used to say my prayers every single night. "I know that it's been a long time. I know that I should have been attending church and reading my Bible and all of the other things that Christians should do, but I haven't. I fell away. And now, I'm just not sure what to believe anymore. I'd like to blame you for taking Cayden away from me, but I know that it was my own recklessness that caused her death. I'm not asking you to forgive me, though. I'm asking you to forgive her, because she wasn't so sure that she believed in you. But she deserves to be in heaven… She really does…"

I took a huge breath. "And Cayden, if you're listening, I forgive you for everything. And I wish that I could have gotten a chance to meet our child."


	45. To Avenge

**To Avenge **

_Joe_

Dominic had to die.

That was a given, of course. He had killed the woman that I loved and he wasn't going to get away with it. He was going to suffer like Cayden did. I was going to leave him to die slowly just like she had. And he would know exactly why he was dying.

He was going to pay.

I holstered the gun that Cayden had bought me for Christmas and looked at myself in the mirror. I hadn't shaved for a few days and I looked… hard, I guess. Rough. Something in my eyes was off. But that was okay; at least he wouldn't be able to recognize me.

I wore jeans and a black shirt, along with a thick jacket that would hide the gun well. I took one last look around the house and then grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts before exiting, determined to leave it behind forever. Sure, others would have missions there, but they would never know what had happened. They wouldn't know that two people had fallen in love there. They wouldn't know that one of those two didn't make it through the mission.

I got into the car and started it up, the map already on the dashboard. It was only going to be a twenty minute drive, which suited me just fine. The quicker, the better. And the security that I had observed wasn't that complicated. I could make it. Especially because a lot of his men had died and there was no way that he had been able to find replacements yet. He was just laying low in a small house, trying to act like a normal citizen.

But he was a killer and a drug lord.

I suppose I'm a killer, too, but at least I've accepted it. I know who I am and I don't try to hide it.

_Cayden…_

On the radio, some Gaelic song came on and thanks to Cayden, I could translate it.

"_I pray you'll be our eyes. And watch us where we go. And help us to be wise. In times when we don't know. Let this be our prayer, as we go our way. Lead us to a place. Guide us with your grace. To a place where we'll be safe."_

"_I pray we'll find your light. And hold it in our heart. When stars go out each night, remind us where you are. Let this be our prayer, when shadows fill our day. Lead us to a place. Guide us with your grace. Give us faith so we'll be safe."_

"_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh" _The lady that sang the song held that note a long time, up and down and back up. But Cayden could have done it better.

"_Lead us through life because. And watch us from above. We hope each star we'll find, another star to love. Let this be our prayer. Just like every child. Need to find a place. Guide us with your grace. Give us faith so we'll be safe." _

"_Need to find a place. Guide us with your grace. Give us faith so we'll be safe."_

I took a deep breath and turned off onto a road. It was going to be hard, I knew. After all, she'd been a big part of my life and now she was gone. And even though I'd only known her for a short time, she'd impacted me in a lot of ways. And I would never be able to completely let her go. Not ever.

I knew that I needed to talk to Rachel, though. Rachel had gone through the loss of a loved one. Maybe she would have some advice for how to move on. Then again, Rachel had Cammie that she had to be strong for. I didn't have a child. I would have if Cayden had made it, but….

What would our child have been like, I couldn't help but wonder? I imagined it as a girl, for some reason. A girl with Cayden's hair and bright eyes and my facial features. A girl that would go to Gallagher and become one of the best in the field. We would have trained her well; she would have been the best.

_Would have._

But never would be.

My hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

Dominic wouldn't just pay for the loss of my fiancé, the love of my life. He would also pay for the death of my unborn child.

Unborn child…

I had never wanted kids, never even considered having them. I wouldn't have wanted them to grow up without a father, if something happened to me. Besides that, I just didn't think that I would make a good father. But Cayden, she would have been an amazing mother. Together, we would have done a great job.

"I want what I can't have," I whispered out loud. "And it's tearing me apart." _And to think that it was all solidly in my hands…_

I parked the car in a café parking lot a mile from the house. It was late, so there weren't that many people out, which was just fine. The less people around to witness me, the better.

I got out of the car and put the keys in my pocket. Then, I started a slow pace toward the café. After standing in line for only half a minute, I ordered a small coffee and stood around to wait for it.

When the girl handed it to me, she smiled flirtatiously. "Have a nice night."

"I'm sure I will," I replied and turned to leave. _If all goes according to plan, that is._

After I left the café, I walked in the direction of the house, though I didn't take the direct route. I took back roads and alleys to avoid being seen. And as I got closer, my heartbeat began to slow and I felt myself slipping into character. The deadly CIA operative. Fast. Strong. Unstoppable.

What had Cayden said the sniper motto was? One shot, one kill? Well, that would be me tonight.

When I reached the back of the house, I threw my coffee cup on the street and watched it roll into the rain gutter before I crept to the back fence and around to the power box. So stupid of him to pick a house that had the fuse box in the back, attached to the fence. He really should have checked his "safe" house better. It only took me a second to cut the power to the motion detectors and the alarms. Another few seconds to creep around and cut the phone lines.

I hopped the fence in one fluid motion and landed on my feet. As I walked towards the house, not bothering to crouch or try to hide, I had flashes of Cayden. Of her dancing with me. Of her laughing when she beat me at chess. Of her shooting down those men in the basement, the look in her eyes determined. She had been focused, strong, and beautiful. Everything that I would ever want.

My hands clenched into fists as I reached the back door. It was going to end once and for all. He would never hurt anyone else whether it be by drugs, extortion, or murder. He was going to disappear from the world.

It took me thirty seconds to pick all three locks and then I quietly pushed the door open. I could hear the TV from the other end of the house and I looked that way while I quietly shut the door behind me. The kitchen was dark and quiet, but I had no problem creeping my way through it. Images of Cayden propelled me forward, but my feet were barely even a whisper on the tile floor.

And then, suddenly, I was just around the corner. When I took my next step, I would see Dominic. My heart began to pound as I reached under my shirt and grabbed the concealed gun. In a fluid motion that Cayden had helped me perfect, I slid the magazine into place and then put my finger on the trigger.

_Cayden, this is for you, love. I hope you're not too embarrassed by my awful gunman's skills. But hopefully, you won't be. You trained me well. I love you. I miss you._

And then, I took the step and rounded the corner.

Dominic didn't look up from the television for a full four seconds. When he did, and he saw me, he dropped his shot glass, spilling liquid onto the carpet. The TV continued to emit Italian voices in the middle of a drama about a cheating wife, but our eyes were locked.

Finally, he spoke in his native tongue. "You speak Italian?"

I nodded my head and replied in Italian. "Yes, I do."

"Do you prefer English?"

Did he think that he could talk me out of killing him? There wasn't a chance in the world of that happening. "Whichever you prefer."

"Italian, then," he said and looked at my gun warily. "Why have you come here to shoot me?"

"You shot her," I whispered.

He gave a laugh. "You'll have to expand upon that. I have shot many people, you see."

Yes, I knew. He had shot a lot of people and he was _laughing_ about it! He was a sick monster and the world would be much better off with him dead. It had been a long time since I'd been assigned as an assassin, but I could feel it all coming back.

"Wait," he said and stared hard at my face, scrutinizing. "Something about you looks familiar."

"Does it?" I asked in a nonchalant voice, my finger still on the trigger, my arms steady.

He nodded and then snapped his fingers. "Ah! You were in my warehouse, weren't you? Are you with the CIA?"

Who would he be able to tell? "Yes, I am."

He nodded. "They have trained you very well, then. You took down many of my men. And your Italian is flawless."

I said nothing. Instead, I studied him with hard eyes and hoped that he could see that he was going to die. Hope that he knew that each breath that he took could be his last.

"Who is it that I shot?" he asked.

"There was a woman with me," I explained, the anger burning my blood. "She came down to the basement and was shooting."

"Ah," he said and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew that I was angry enough to kill him. He was trying to be careful not to make me too angry. Well, too late. "Yes, I remember now. She was absolutely beautiful. A good fighter, too."

_No, she was not a fighter. That's the problem. She wasn't meant to be a combat fighter. She was a shooter. She knew where the bullet was going to go and she took it for me. _"You shot her. You killed her."

"Please, try to understand," he said and there was a hint of begging in his tone. "I was only doing what was best for me; I'm a selfish man. I didn't really want to hurt anyone. Besides, I was aiming for you."

"I know," I said. "But she was a shooter, the best one that the world has ever seen. And when I tried to pull her out of the way, she knew that the bullet was heading for me. She stepped in front of it."

Flashes of her bloody body made me blink.

"She loved you," he breathed.

"I loved her," I said. "And our unborn child."

His eyes widened as he realized that he was beyond help.

"You're going to pay for them," I said. "Both of them."

Painfully, he looked down, not wanting to see the end coming. And I didn't care; all I wanted was my revenge.

As he whispered an Italian prayer, I aimed and pulled the trigger twice.


	46. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Joe_

I still had no idea why I was doing this. It felt so strange and I almost turned around and left. But, I thought of Cayden and knew that I had to keep going. I had to do this. So, I crossed the quiet street and went into the soccer field house. From somewhere beyond one of the two doorways in the large area, I could hear girls squealing and shouting, having a grand time while they washed up after a grueling practice. And it made me miss her all the more.

There were trophies on display behind a trophy case and I looked at them all, reading the titles carefully. And I saw it – them – the trophies that boasted a state championship from each of the years that Cayden would have been on the team.

And there was a picture. Of the state championship team at the time when Cayden would have been a junior. After it had all started. She looked the same – except, of course, a little bit younger – and she had on a bright smile. She held the trophy, which gleamed as brightly as her hair in the sunlight. Beside her stood a man and I looked at the caption to be sure. Yes, that was Jack McBradden. He had blondish hair that caught the light just like Cayden's and he was looking right at her, smiling, though some people may have thought that he was just looking at the trophy.

I read the caption one more time, going over the back row, where Cayden was. _Aidan Smith, and Coach Jack McBradden._

"Excuse me?"

I turned to see a woman standing there. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw me, just like most women's did. She looked to be about twenty-four and she had closely cropped brown hair and a waiflike face. There was a whistle around her neck and I knew that she was the coach. "Can I help you?" she asked me.

I pointed at the picture of the championship team. "I'm scouting the school for my daughter."

The woman smiled. "Does she play soccer?"

"Yes," I lied. "She's very good at it, actually."

"I'm Coach Larson," she said, stepping forward and offering me her hand, which I shook. Then, she gestured at the picture. "I was on that team."

My heartbeat sped up. "Really?"

She exhaled a laugh and nodded, stepping closer. "Those were the good times." She pointed at one of the figures and I realized that it was her, though younger and with longer hair. "I still remember that day. It was a hard game."

"So you took over coaching?" I asked.

She nodded, still staring at the picture, and I saw her getting lost in memories. "I never expected to. But they called me not too long ago; they'd found out that I had my teaching degree and they needed a new coach. The others weren't doing too well."

"What happened to him?" I asked, pointing at Jack McBradden.

She looked at me and I saw the sadness in her eyes. "He got into a bit of trouble, actually. I don't know if the school fired him or if he quit, but he's gone now."

"Shame," I said. "He must have been a good coach to win so many championships."

She nodded. "He was a very good coach. He played in college and he could have gone pro, but he didn't. I don't know why… He could still be here if he hadn't…"

"Hadn't what?" I questioned.

She looked around as if to check for eavesdroppers and whispered. "He fell in love with a student."

"Really?" I asked, interested. "He was a teacher?"

She nodded. "The best world history teacher ever, actually. He was everyone's favorite teacher."

"Who was the girl?"

She pointed at Cayden's – Aidan's – figure in the picture. "Aidan Smith. She was always his favorite player and I guess it just developed into something more."

"Did he go to jail?"

She shook her head. "Not that I know of. By the time everyone found out, Aidan was almost eighteen and there was nothing that anyone could do. But then, he just disappeared one day."

"Where to?"

"No one knows," she said. "And that really sucks. I would have liked to know."

"Why?"

"I would have begged him to come back," she answered. "He was our coach. And he just disappeared."

"Must have been hard on Aidan."

She nodded and looked at me, tears shining in her brown eyes. "It was. She quit the soccer team and refused to do good in his class after they brought in a new teacher. She knew better than to fail, but she got a really low D."

"Wow."

"Yeah," she said, staring at the picture. "And then Aidan disappeared, too."

"Do you think that she disappeared with him?"

"No," she said. "There were rumors that he'd killed himself and I think Aidan believed them. Her dad was a cop and apparently, he's the one that found the body."

"But you didn't believe that?"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't think Coach would have done that."

"But Aidan did?"

She shrugged. "I guess so. Actually, as horrible as it sounds, I think that Aidan thought that her dad killed him. She was hard as stone after that. And as soon as high school was over, she left. I have no idea where she is now and no one else does either. If they did, they would have called her in to coach instead of me. She was an amazing soccer player; probably could have gone pro right after high school. I know for a fact that the National Team wanted her. Coach trained her well."

"You still call him Coach," I noted. "Even though he isn't your coach anymore."

She looked at me and gave me a sad smile. "He'll always be my coach. He taught me more than anyone else ever did. He was good for us – all of us."

"Even Aidan?" I asked softly.

She looked at the picture, at Aidan. "Yeah," she said softly. "Especially Aidan."

_*New Hampshire*_

The house hadn't been that hard to find. I had found it a long time ago, when I had first looked him up.

I knocked on the door and after a moment, it opened to reveal Jack McBradden, who didn't look different from his picture at all except for the fact that he wasn't smiling. Something about him appeared defeated. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice a low baritone.

"Jack McBradden?" I asked.

He nodded, raising one eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I'm Joe Solomon," I said, not really knowing why I was giving my real name. I took a breath. "I knew Cayden – er, _Aidan_."

His expression changed at the sound of her name and he sighed. "I figured she changed her name. She's a smart girl." He moved aside. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure." I said and stepped into the house. "Thank you."

He led me into a plain living room and gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"No, thanks," I said and he nodded and sat down.

"Why is it you came here?" he asked. "Does Aidan know that you're here?"

"Aidan…" I took a breath. "She's…she's dead."

I saw the immediate effect that the news had on him and it pained me. Because that meant that he had really loved her; that he still loved her, maybe just as much as I did. He stood up abruptly. "Excuse me for a moment," he said and then he went outside.

I waited patiently and five minutes later, he came back in, his eyes red. He sat back down and asked me, "How did that happen? Car wreck?"

I shook my head. "No; I'll give you the short version of the story." He deserved to know the truth. "Aidan left after high school and changed her name to Cayden Sanders. She went to Quantico and was trained as a sniper. Then, she joined the CIA. And she was the best sniper that they've seen in a long time. She was on a mission with me…" I took a breath. "She was supposed to be shooting people from a rooftop at a safe distance. But I was in a tight spot and she came running into the room… The bullet should have hit me," I whispered. "But Cayden – she was an expert; she knew where the bullet was really going to go, and so she let it hit her instead."

"She loved you?" he asked quietly.

"She said she did," I responded. "And I loved her."

He nodded slowly. "I'm glad that she was able to love someone again."

"Why did you leave?" I asked. "Why did you leave her without saying goodbye?"

He sighed. "It was the worst thing that I've ever done. But her father…he threatened me. He said he could make our lives very difficult and I believed him. But I was still going to stay. Until he threatened to put Aidan in prison."

"For what?"

"He was a cop," he answered softly. "It didn't matter; he could say that he had witnessed something; he could have planted evidence. And I couldn't let her go to prison, so I left."

"She thought that you had committed suicide," I said. "If she hadn't, then she would have been able to find you and-" _And you would have been with her and not me. She would have been carrying your baby instead of mine when she died._

He nodded slowly. "He told me that he was going to plant a suicide story. I always held out hope that Aidan would come find me."

"She knew that you were alive," I said. "I'm the one that looked you up. I think she was going to come and see you after the mission."

He looked at me. "Did that upset you?"

"A little bit," I answered. "But you can't destroy someone's first love."

He gave me a sad smile.

"She still called you Coach," I said softly.

He nodded slowly. "Did she tell you what I used to call her?"

"Atalanta," I answered. "She had to explain to me who that was."

He sighed. "And she was my Atalanta. I wish you had been able to see her play soccer. She was amazing. The National Team wanted her, every college in the U.S. wanted her…"

"So what are you doing now?" I asked. "Are you a teacher somewhere, or…?"

He shook his head. "I work at a diner now, making minimum wage."

I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled. "I know, right? I have a PhD in history and I'm washing dishes and taking food orders."

"Are you happy?" I asked, even though I didn't know why. It really wasn't any of my business.

"No," he answered me honestly. "I haven't been happy since the last time I saw Aidan."

I nodded slowly. "I think it's going to be like that for me, too."

"There'll be days when it's easier," he said. "Days when you'll laugh and smile and carry on. But then you'll see something – a girl with hair the same shade as hers or the smell of vanilla and lilac – and you'll remember. For me, it's those things or when I see anyone playing soccer."

"She said you were a good coach," I told him, choking out the words. "And she said that she still loves you, even after everything that happened. I thought that you had a right to know."

I saw his eyes tear up. "Thank you."

"If you want to see her body-"

"I don't," he interrupted. "I don't want to remember her like that."

I knew exactly what he meant. I stood up. "Well, I have to go now."

He stood, too. "Thank you for coming and letting me know."

I nodded and we shook hands. The two lovers of Aidan – Cayden – in the same room, remembering the same girl. Then, I walked out the door and left.

And I didn't look back.


End file.
